The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg
by satanslut
Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.
1. Chapter 1

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter One)

Summer. Yippee.

Yeah, right, maybe for every other teenager in the universe, but not for Willow Rosenberg. She hated summer. Other than greater freedom from the taunts and slights of Cordelia Chase, she couldn't think of anything good about being out of school. After all, she was a geek, and a geek's natural habitat is an academic environment.

What was she supposed to do all summer? There was no computer lab full of fellow geeks to swap hacking stories with, no classrooms full of students who would hate and fear her for her ability to blow every grade curve, no library full of arcane volumes only she could understand. There wasn't even a need to do Xander's homework or help Buffy and Giles research demons.

All she had to look forward to was five nights a week of Jeopardy, and what fun was that when the only person around for her to impress by answering every question correctly was herself?

She was so bored that she decided to take a chance and go for a walk.

Summer sucked.

She wasn't the only one who thought so, actually, though the other person thinking along similar lines wasn't a teenager...and wasn't even, strictly speaking, a person.

Angel hated summer. Long, hot days, short nights, and his kinda-maybe-he-was-pretty-sure-one-true-love was far away, having left without even a real goodbye. She was off having a typical teenage summer of mindless fun in Los Angeles while Angel pined away for her at home. As of now, Angel wasn't so sure that Buffy's status as the Slayer was the greatest obstacle to their happiness. Damn fickle adolescent girls with their ridiculous adolescent hormones and resultant whims.

What was a vampire with a soul supposed to do for these three horrible months, anyway? Play Scrabble? Evil seemed to have decamped right along with his supposed-to-be-but-maybe-not-really-after-all-girlfriend, leaving a vampire in search of redemption also in search of some way to actually redeem himself. Some Hellmouth. Sunnydale was right now evil-deprived enough to have a hard time qualifying as the mouth of Purgatory.

All he had to look forward to was marking the passing of each weary, boring day on his wall in anticipation of Buffy's return, just like a prisoner or something.

Oh well, it was nighttime at last. He might as well take a chance and see if there was finally some evil afoot for him to do battle with. He walked out the door of his apartment, out of the building, and onto the streets of Sunnydale.

Summer sucked.

Within a few minutes of leaving the house, Willow realized she'd made a stupid mistake. The stake she'd brought with her was lying several feet away, having been knocked right out of her hand by one of the two really skanky vampires now circling her. This all looked so easy when Buffy did it. Guess there was a reason she was the Slayer and Willow was the sidekick.

"Well, well, little girl. Didn't your mother ever tell you not go out alone at night?"

"Didn't yours ever tell you not to play with your food?" Lame, so lame. It had sounded a whole lot wittier in her head.

The vampires said nothing, just guffawed. Great. Not only was she going to die, but she was going to die while being laughed at. She'd had a nightmare like this once. Was it too much to hope that her blood might choke them if they were still laughing when they bit her?

The walk was dull and Angel was beginning to think it had been a mistake. It was easier to brood alone, in his apartment, with a refrigerator full of blood to remind him of just what he had to brood about - centuries of vampiric evil.

Wait a minute? Was that a scream? Maybe tonight wasn't such a total loss after all.

As he rounded the corner he saw two vampires circling a helpless girl...a helpless girl who looked very familiar.

"Willow? What are you doing out here?"

"Umm...right now? Kind of trying to not get eaten. What about you?"

"Saving you."

"Thanks. Because fighting vampires isn't nearly as easy as Buffy makes it look."

It seemed like both of them had nearly forgotten the presence of the two ravenous fledglings...and that didn't appear to sit too well with the fanged duo.

"Hey!"

"What?" Angel shot back. This pair wouldn't even give him enough of a fight to work up a sweat, so to speak. He'd been hoping for something a lot more dangerous. Oh well.

"We're hungry. So if you don't mind, we'd like to get to the part where we eat you and your little girlfriend."

"I'm not his girlfriend," Willow helpfully corrected them, though she had to admit it was kind of flattering that they thought she was, even if they were just vampires and Angel wasn't the guy whose girlfriend she wanted to be.

Angel himself said nothing, but that wasn't too big of a shock. Even Buffy said that Angel wasn't big on conversation and she _was_ his girlfriend, or sort of, anyway. Willow was kind of fuzzy on that right now since Buffy was mad at him but never told her whether they broke up or not. It wasn't like she could ask her either. Buffy hadn't even called since she'd left for L.A. To tell the truth, Willow's feelings were getting pretty hurt.

Just at that moment, one of the vamps made a move. Oops. Maybe she needed to focus on the here and now. Luckily, she had a more alert companion.

Angel's face changed – wow, did he ever look scary with the ridges and fangs – and he grabbed the vamp around the neck and twisted. Willow heard a sickening crack before Angel plunged a stake into its heart. Talk about overkill. She suppressed a shudder as she stared. This was so different from watching Buffy. Was it weird to think that killing looked a lot more serious when Angel did it? Maybe that's because he didn't say anything witty – or anything at all actually.

She watched as he made short work of the second fledgling and dusted himself off, his face transforming back to humanity as he brushed the remains of the vampire from his clothing. Wait a minute? Was he just going to leave? Without saying _anything_? Not to be ungrateful and all, but Angel was really rude.

Angel was about to leave. After all, he'd done his good deed for the night, what reason was there to stick around? He figured Willow was close enough to her house to get there safely and anyway, he'd probably double back and follow her from a distance just to be sure. What he didn't want to do was have a conversation. She was Buffy's best friend, but really, other than her, they had nothing in common and Angel was in no mood to try to make small talk. He was two hundred years old; he knew nothing about twentieth century teenage interests.

Willow, however, didn't seem to get it. Seconds later, despite having turned his back on her – as clear a signal as he could send, he'd figured – he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Thanks." He turned around to see her smiling at him. It was the smile of someone desperate to please…and even more desperate to be liked. Dammit. There was no way to get out of spending time with her now, not without an extra helping of guilt added to an already intolerable load.

"You're welcome."

"It was nice of you to save my life and all." The smile was still there. He was starting to hate that smile.

"You know, you really shouldn't be out at night." Angel realized he probably sounded rude – blame that damn guilt-inducing smile of hers – but it was sound advice, even though he really should thank iher/i for alleviating his boredom by getting attacked. "I thought you were smarter than this."

The look on her face told him that was not at all the right thing to say.

Did Angel just insult her intelligence? He had some nerve! Here she was, the _only_ one who was on his side when it came to his romance with Buffy, and he was treating her like an idiot. See if she'd put in a good word for him next time Xander and Giles were running him down.

"I'm very smart, I'll have you know! But there've hardly been any vampires around since Buffy left town and I was alone and bored and…" Her voice trailed off. She hated how pathetic she sounded.

But if she'd been worried that he'd laugh at her, he didn't even seem to be stifling a chuckle. Instead he was looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. It was weird, actually.

"Wanna walk me home?" she asked.

Had she asked him that question only a minute ago, he'd have felt trapped. Now, however…there was a kinship between them, even if it was forged of nothing more substantial than boredom and loneliness. "Sure," he answered, though even now he wasn't sure at all. Forging ties with humans was always a bad idea. Still, he chided himself, walking a girl whose life he'd just saved home hardly constituted developing a friendship. And if he made conversation? Well that was just being polite, now wasn't it?

"Why aren't you with Xander tonight?" he asked, since that was the only friend of hers besides Buffy who he knew by name. She had other friends, though, didn't she?

Willow felt awkward now. She couldn't very well tell Angel the truth, could she? How could she tell him that she'd begged off with Xander because she needed a break from his endless speculation about his prospects for winning Buffy when she got back from Los Angeles? It was too hard to keep believing in the possibility of Xander opening his eyes and suddenly realizing that the perfect girl for him wasn't Buffy, but his best friend if she didn't have some time off to breathe and rationalize his obsession away.

"He had other stuff to do," she said after a just-too-long pause. "I mean, it's not like we don't each have our own lives or anything." Of course the last thing Willow wanted to do was admit that she did not, in fact, have her own separate life.

"I can see why you'd want to spend some time away from him," Angel said rather quickly and unexpectedly.

Was that a personal remark?

As much as Willow wanted to defend the boy she loved, there was something almost human about Angel's outburst; a chink in the armour he always wore. She couldn't help herself; she laughed.

Angel started. Was she laughing at him? That didn't seem like her. Then he realized what he'd said; that must be what had amused her. It made more sense, anyway. After all, if anyone was worthy of derision, it was Xander Harris. The way the boy had accused him of 'checking out' his neck. As if he'd ever stoop to dine on that worthless moron. He'd rather go back to eating rats.

Of course, in his relief, he managed to put his foot in it badly. "What about your other friends?"

There was silence for a few seconds. "Buffy's in L.A."

"Yeah, I know, but…" His words died as the look on her face became ever more stricken.

"There used to be Jesse, but he's…"

It took a moment, but Angel recalled the name. He'd been turned by Darla, dusted by Xander…and he'd been Willow's friend – apparently the only other friend she had. Nice one, Angel. There were reasons he had fewer friends than Willow did. And he began to think that his own solitary tendencies were possibly the least of them.

Awkward – that was the word for the reigning silence. She never should have mentioned Jesse. That had to remind Angel of Darla and, while Buffy hadn't said anything about it, Angel had to feel bad. Darla might have been evil and skanky and homicidal and all – and it's not as if _Willow _was unhappy she was dead – but she was Angel's sire and that was kind of like her being his mom, wasn't it? And who knew better than Willow that, no matter how bad your parents were, you couldn't help but love them?

"I'm sorry," she said tentatively.

"What for?" he asked, as if he had no idea. She'd been wrong about him being rude earlier, because he sure seemed like a gentleman now.

"For bringing up Jesse and all. I mean, I know Darla was the one who…and…I didn't mean to remind you of…" Her tongue tripped over her train of thought and she felt herself losing control of her words. It didn't help that Angel had a blank look on his face that gave her no reins with which to pull herself back into coherence. How was she going to get out of this?

Angel was stunned…and ashamed. He'd barely thought about Willow in all the time he'd known her and here she was, empathetic and considerate enough to worry about how he felt about the death of his sire. It brought him up short.

"There's no need to apologize," he said, trying hard to show that he was being sincere, not merely polite.

He wanted to say more, but she spoke and what she said signaled the end of the evening. "Gosh. Here we are. My house. Thanks, Angel."

Her mood was…well…_chaotic _might be a good word for it. She seemed to want to go inside, but at the same time, she stayed right where she was, shifting her weight from foot to foot and fidgeting. The thought that she was adorable occurred to him and he had no idea why. He suddenly felt as uncomfortable as she looked.

"Good night," he said, making the first overture of leave-taking because one of them had to do it.

"Good night," she caroled. "See ya." It sounded uncomfortably like a promise, like something a friend would say to another friend. Angel said nothing, he just watched as she hurried up the walk to her front door.

It was some time after she was safe inside that he was finally able to bring himself to leave. He had the strangest feeling that, like it or not, he had just forged a tie to a human who wasn't Buffy.

Tbc…


	2. Chapter 2

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Two)

Willow hadn't seen Angel for almost a week.

It wasn't that she'd expected him to hang out with her or anything, but Willow couldn't help but feel slighted. No, she guessed she and Angel weren't exactly _friends,_ but she'd sort of thought they'd bonded a little when he'd saved her life. Boy did it seem she was wrong about that. Looked like he only talked to her because she was Buffy's friend. He probably figured it would help convince her to put in a good word with Buffy when (or _if_) she spoke to her this summer.

Being used by someone who had a thing for Buffy. Gosh. That was new.

Sighing, she punched her pillow, feeling sullen and angry and full of self-pity. She regretted her outburst immediately and patted the poor, down-filled cushion afterward, smoothing its pillow sham for good measure. It wasn't the pillow's fault that her life sucked.

How sad was it that she was ready to apologize to her _pillow_?

It was barely past noon and she was already so bored that she was considering going back to bed. There weren't even any interesting people to talk to in her favorite chat rooms. Even the biggest geeks she knew had better things to do on a summer day than go online. If only she didn't have enough restless energy to power a generator (a thought which gave her an idea for next year's science fair project). The only thing worse than being bored to tears was being bored to tears and so restless that she could feel her limbs twitch with the need to do _something_ and she could almost _feel_ the wheels spinning uselessly in her mind – just wanting to _go_ somewhere.

So she gave in – getting up from her bed, grabbing her purse, and heading out the door and off to the high school. With any luck, Giles would be in the library and would need her help with something. Even if he wasn't, a futile walk was better than futile moping in her bedroom.

Angel had been avoiding Willow for a week.

Not that it should have been an effort, seeing as how they barely ever ran into each other even before the other night, but now he was almost paranoid about it. He went nowhere near her neighborhood, or the Bronze, or downtown Sunnydale, or Xander's house – he barely patrolled at all, in fact. Guilt was starting to get the better of him. Sure, there was barely any evil afoot right now, but last week's events proved that there was a big difference between 'barely any' and 'none at all'. What if someone had been maimed, or turned, or killed because he was too busy hiding from developing a friendship with a teenage girl to pay his debt to humanity by keeping them safe from his kind?

Guilt, oh thou faithful (and annoying) friend.

Sighing, he got up from his bed and began pacing the room, stopping to punch his wall once in frustration. A small crack appeared where his fist had hit. Great. He'd never get his security deposit back when he moved.

And now he felt guilty _again_ for thinking of asking for money back from the landlord. He needed a hobby or something.

It was barely past noon on a summer day – hours upon hours would pass before he could safely leave his tomb of an apartment to protect the unwary populace, and – his guilt-fueled musings earlier notwithstanding – even when he did, there was little likelihood of his finding anything more fearsome than those two idiot fledglings he'd stopped from draining Willow. Every other demon had better things to do than hang around this burg. What _were_ those things? And where did they do them? It was as if someone was throwing a big demon party and Angel wasn't invited. Not that he'd accept if he were, but still…

He stomped over to his closet and grabbed his leather jacket. He figured he might as well head for the high school library and see about researching or something. The tunnels were a guaranteed safe way there and in without any danger from sunlight or locked doors. With any luck, he'd find out there was a vampire convention scheduled or something – creatures worth fighting. It would sure beat the heck out of brooding.

Willow walked along, enjoying the daytime luxury of not paying attention to her surroundings, when she ran into Xander. Literally.

"Hey there, watch where you're…Willow?"

Embarrassing, but this was still better than sitting at home having a self-pity party…at least as long as Xander didn't start talking about Buffy.

"Sorry," she offered as she straightened her shirt. "I was on my way to the library to see if Giles needed any help or anything."

"Cyberspace that empty?" Thanks, Xander. "Well, I was on my way to see you." He was? "So why don't I just follow you to the library?"

Willow almost beamed as she and Xander started down the sidewalk towards the school. He hadn't even mentioned…

"Have you heard from Buffy?"

She sighed. Maybe she should have just stayed home.

Angel came out of the tunnels quietly, navigating the basement and finding the entrance to the library with practiced ease. The smell of books was oddly soothing. Of course, that effect was lost the moment it occurred to him that he'd once overheard Willow express a similar sentiment.

And of course, it was banished for all time – or at least the rest of the day – when the sound of a heartbeat only he could hear – accompanied by a cough any human could have – told him he did not have the library to himself.

"Rupert," he said gravely. Somehow it seemed less familiar to address him by his first name. Buffy and the others, after all, always called him 'Giles.'

"Angel." The voice that addressed him was stiff and formal, not that Angel was surprised. He couldn't blame the man, either. No Watcher could be expected to accept the idea of a vampire befriending, let alone becoming involved with, his Slayer. "What brings you here?" Clearly Rupert Giles was displeased by his presence, despite Buffy's absence. That made sense, too.

"The town's too quiet. I thought something might be brewing. Figured it wouldn't hurt to look through some of the books, see if there were any prophecies or anything." His explanation was perfectly accurate…well, mostly accurate. All he did was leave out the part where he was actually _hoping_ there was trouble on the way because he was bored and desperate for something to do.

Rupert still wore an expression of distrust (or it might have been constipation, Angel thought uncharitably), but he answered with, "Well, in fact I heard from an old friend and he told me something slightly alarming."

Angel fought to keep from rubbing his hands together in what was as close as he could get to glee. But before Rupert could say anything more, they were interrupted by…

"Hi, Giles!"

The very person he'd been avoiding for the past week. He should have stayed home and brooded.

What had seemed like luck didn't look anything like it upon closer examination. Not only was Giles in the library, but so was Angel. Just who she least wanted to see, since, after all, he didn't want to see _her_. Stupid, rude, unfriendly vampire.

Okay, yeah, he had kind of saved her life and all, but would it kill him (he was already dead, of course, but she meant _more_ dead) to be nice? To stop by and say hi some night? To come to the Bronze and play pool with them? He was dating – at least he used to be dating – her best friend. Didn't that count for anything?

"Hi, Angel," she offered. She'd greeted Giles and it would be rude not to include Angel, even if he was an annoying poophead.

Xander, naturally, did nothing but glare at Angel and forgot to say hello to Giles.

Angel nodded in her direction. Nodded – that's all she got? Boy, when (if) Buffy called, she was so going to tell her that Angel was not a guy she should be dating.

Of course, she immediately felt guilty – and selfish – for thinking that way. After all, it was how Angel treated _Buffy_ that mattered, not whether or not he wanted to be pals with Willow. So she'd stay on board the Angel and Buffy train until Buffy herself gave her a reason to disembark.

The fact that if Buffy broke up with Angel she'd be technically free and might even consider dating Xander never occurred to Willow – not even once.

Okay, maybe once.

"Any bad guys wreaking havoc? Present company excluded?" Xander asked, still glaring at Angel while ostensibly addressing Giles.

"Actually," Giles said, looking only slightly askance at Xander. "There might be."

"Might?" Angel and Xander asked in unison. Willow giggled behind her hand at the horror on each of their faces at having shared a thought. She couldn't help it.

"Yes, well, I received a call from an old friend and he told me that a creature known as Porthus might be headed here and…"

"Porthos?" Willow interrupted. "The Three Musketeers are demons?"

Xander looked appalled as well and Willow cheered inwardly. He knew who the Three Musketeers were; it was the nickname she'd given to the little group of which Jesse had once been the third part. Maybe Xander had even read Dumas! She couldn't help rooting for him to prove to Angel and Giles that he was smarter than they thought. After all, she loved him.

Go on, Xander. Show them.

"There's evil _chocolate_ now?"

Angel was caught between shock and nausea. Could anyone actually be so unrelentingly ignorant? Even Xander Harris?

Willow looked stricken, extremely so, and it gave Angel pause. Sure, having your best friend say something so stupid had to be embarrassing, but her feelings seemed a bit excessive…unless…

Oh no. She couldn't possibly…there was no chance that…it couldn't be true that…

Willow was in love with Xander.

Angel was now queasier than before. It was true that he didn't know Willow terribly well, but she seemed extremely bright – a genius, really. What on Earth could she see in that boy? Oh well, it was none of his business. But this did put him in a bit of an awkward place since it forced him to bite his tongue and not come back with the smart retort he was itching to sail over Xander's head. He owed Willow. Angel had seen the expression on her face when she'd walked in and realized he was there, heard the sharp dip in perky enthusiasm. He'd hurt her with his avoidance.

He rubbed his temples. Was she some sort of Guilt Demon? Because it seemed like every time he was around her, he felt more and more ashamed of himself.

Best to just get back to the subject at hand.

Rupert beat him to the punch. "The creature is known as Porthus, with a 'u'," Rupert said gently, seeming to be trying to spare Willow's feelings on all levels. Good. It wasn't just Angel on whom she had this effect.

"Oh," Willow said, reddening. Angel could scarcely believe it. Xander thought the Three Musketeers were only a chocolate bar and Willow was embarrassed because she'd misunderstood Rupert's pronunciation of the demon's name?

"The names are quite easily confused," Rupert said, pre-empting Angel, who was growing annoyed at being continually upstaged by the Watcher. "And, of course, there's every possibility that Dumas was inspired by tales of this demon. There have been quite a number of instances where…"

"I'm sure that the tangent you're about to go off on is very interesting in a stuffy, British kind of way, but can we get back to who this demon is? And are we sure that chocolate is safe?" And now _Xander_ was getting in ahead of him. Angel was past annoyed and straight into irritated.

"Quite," Rupert replied, the rise of his eyebrow signaling that he and Angel had a bit of a fellow feeling at the moment. "I don't have much information on him. All my informant knew was that he has a rather distinctive appearance and that he's seeking some sort of power source. Anything more than that, I'm afraid, we must find out for ourselves."

Willow wanted to jump for joy. Research! A bad guy who needed defeating! It was like the answer to…

A really selfish and thoughtless prayer. How could she be so happy about a potential killer? A creature that might be here to take innocent lives or even end the world. Was the alleviation of her own boredom so important that she was willing to sacrifice public safety?

She caught herself skipping as she headed for the stacks. Apparently the answer to that last question was a big fat yes.

Angel fought back the grin that was seeking by main force to conquer his face. Evil! At last! It was the best news he'd had since before Buffy left town. It was…

A good reason to hate himself. How could he be so delighted at the prospect of innocent people in terrible danger? Lives in peril, lives he might not even be able to save. Who knew what this creature might be after. Was Angel so selfish and so obsessed with his own redemption – and with relieving his crushing boredom – that he was willing to court the deaths of innocent people?

He found himself taking the stairs three at a time. Apparently the answer to that last question was resoundingly in the affirmative.

Maybe he'd eaten too many rats.

Tbc…


	3. Chapter 3

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Three)

Willow woke up the next morning still a bit fearful. Why on Earth had she thought excitement would be a good thing? What was that they said about be careful what you wish for? Well, Porthus sure seemed to fall into that category. Even the full colour drawing they'd found in one of the ancillary volumes to the Watcher's Diaries was kind of chilling. Silver, shriveled skin; eyes glowing red? Porthus was not a creature who seemed destined to grace the pages of a Hunk of the Month calendar.

Why were so many demons ugly anyway? Like Malcolm…er…Moloch. With all his mystical powers, he still looked like a creature from a bad horror movie. You'd think he'd use some of his mojo to make himself handsome or at least normal-looking.

And no, her thoughts had nothing to do with the fact that he was the only male she'd ever met who found her attractive and that she'd feel much better if her demon swain was at least sort of appealing.

Okay, maybe they did.

It wasn't fair. Xander had had Miss French, who was sort of pretty (in a 'skanky older woman' kind of way) when she wasn't a giant insect; Buffy had Angel, who was handsome (in a 'brooding and not really Willow's type' kind of way) when he wasn't all 'grr'. What did Willow get? A reject from the special effects department who didn't even care enough about her to try to look human.

Was it her?

Angel was finding it harder to sleep than usual. This Porthus creature was weighing on his thoughts and he was inclined to despise himself for wishing for some evil to hit town and dispel his ennui. Because a demon of whom only one was known to exist? A demon whose species had no name owing to the fact that he'd rather creatively and violently disemboweled a Watcher who'd attempted to bestow one on him? This might be a bit more of a threat than he could handle with enough ease to prevent loss of life entirely.

But then again, how big of a deal was killing _one_ measly Watcher? How did that rate a free pass from being relentlessly hunted and the right to be referred to only rarely and then with a kind of preternatural awe in those damn Watcher's Diaries? Angelus had slaughtered half of Europe without getting that level of respect from the Council. And then of course there were those two Slayers who Spike had somehow managed to kill. Not that it was nearly the accomplishment that Angelus's continent-wide reign of terror was, but you'd think two Slayers would carry the weight of one Watcher. Not to mention Angelus's unimaginable brutality…

Okay, so he was feeling threatened by and inappropriately jealous of Porthus. He was alone; he was allowed. Thanks to Willow, he'd felt more than enough extra guilt to indulge in a bit of demonic pride. Not that he was proud of what he'd done without a soul, because he wasn't. It would take him more than ten mortal lifetimes to atone for what he'd done and the faces of those he'd murdered never left his thoughts. He felt nothing but remorse and regret for the depraved deeds he'd committed while minus his soul, but still…

It wasn't fair.

You – or rather the evil you before you became one of the good guys – cut a swath of blood and torture through country after country. You slaughter noble and peasant alike. You make the whole civilized world fear your name – well, your _former_ name from back before you had a soul – and what do you get? Less respect than some wizened, metallic upstart who eviscerates _one_ defenseless Watcher. It's not like those guys were hard to kill. Anyone could do it.

And now, with nothing more than purely hypothetical visions of Rupert minus his large intestine before his eyes, he felt the crushing burden of guilt again. Great.

Porthus was on his hit list for sure now.

Willow decided to go back to the library to do some more research. Sure, she could go online at home, but her parents were back in town for what she was told would be at least a few weeks. Staying in the house meant a lecture from her mother about how she needed other, more suitable friends than Xander, who was nice enough but not her intellectual equal, and 'Bunny', who was a juvenile delinquent and a horrible influence not to mention bad for her reputation (and that of her parents, which was really more the point, Willow knew) . So, with a cheerily-called-out lie about spending the day tutoring middle schoolers – her mother approved of anything likely to reflect well on a college application – Willow headed out the door and down the street toward the high school.

As she walked, she started sorting through the facts they already had about Porthus, sifting and sorting them and, by arranging and rearranging them in order of importance in her head, mining from them every scrap of significance they had to offer.

What stood out to her most starkly was that Porthus was the only one of his kind. Not another demon in the whole world was like him. The thought made Willow feel almost sorry for him. Sure, he'd gutted a Watcher just for trying to give his species a name, and that was very bad and evil and…gross, but maybe being the one and only member of his race had made him extra cranky. Loneliness could do that, Willow thought with a sigh.

How did it feel? Walking around with the knowledge that no other creature in the world was anything like you? At first it might seem kind of cool, but after centuries, it had to be very isolating and depressing. Willow's own experience with being different and an outcast, while hardly as pervasive and longstanding as his, gave her almost a fellow-feeling. Add to that the whole 'not-exactly-handsome' thing (something for which a look in the mirror as she was getting dressed had made her feel like a hypocrite for disdaining him) and…yeah, he lived a pretty sad life. A psychiatrist could come up with an excellent defense for homicidal behaviour given his circumstances.

Willow was really hoping they wouldn't have to kill him.

Angel had given up trying to get any sleep. Visions of his victims danced before his eyes whenever he closed them and terror of what Buffy would say if she knew he'd contemplated disemboweling Rupert Giles (though it had been a purely academic line of thinking and nothing about which to get overwrought, trying to explain that to Buffy would be fruitless ) made him leery of the nightmares which would likely accompany any fitful slumber his obsession with Porthus would deign to allow him. So he popped some cow blood in the microwave and got dressed as he waited for it to heat up. It was more tasteless today, he noted as he downed the glass. He needed to have a talk with the butcher (because of course the weak flavour had _nothing_ to do with a night filled with memories of downing gallons of warm, ripe human nectar) and see about getting his sustenance from higher quality cattle.

He brushed his teeth and made liberal use of mouthwash – best to stick to his fastidious habits even in Buffy's absence – then he headed to the tunnels. Might as well go the library and try to do some more research.

He was struck again by the fact that Porthus was said to be the only one of his kind. No one had ever even known of another creature of the same species. Maybe that was why he dwelt in such a rarefied realm of Council awe – his singularity garnered him that unmerited degree of reverent respect. Though if that were all it took, then what about Angel?

Because Porthus wasn't the only one who was like no other demon, after all. Angel himself could quite justly lay claim to the same status. Had there ever, in the whole entire history of demons, been another vampire with a soul? No! There hadn't. And Angel was good-looking, to boot (he didn't even need a mirror to know that; it's not like an ugly guy would have a chance with Buffy). So this Porthus? This dried-up, red-eyed creature with his one measly mutilation murder and the fact that he was the one and only ugly silver demon of his kind? He was nothing special – nothing special in any way.

Angel was really hoping to be the one who got to kill him.

Willow wasn't the only one who had decided to spend the day researching the new Big Bad (or Big Misunderstood, as Willow was currently wont to think of him). Giles was already here when she arrived, Angel arrived moments later, and Xander had shown up just after that. It seemed like no one had anything better to do. Was it wrong of her to be cheered up a bit by that?

She was currently skimming some of the demon-focused websites she had bookmarked. They were mostly useless – just stuff kids made up, thinking the boards were a joke – but every once in awhile, you'd find something worthwhile there, like…

Right now.

"Guys?" Willow called out. "I think I might have something."

It looked like Angel wasn't the only one without anything better to think about than a shriveled-up, metallic wannabe. Rupert was here, Willow was here – something he found oddly able to handle better today – even Xander Harris was here. And while the latter's company would forever be unwelcome, it was still nice to see that even that boy had nothing better to do than research Porthus.

Angel had been skimming a fifteenth century German compendium of what amounted to demonic gossip. Nothing resembling Porthus was mentioned therein, but he was disturbingly pleased to see a suitably fearful mention of some of his Aurelian ancestors. Oh great. Guilt reared its ugly head again. He'd been just about to spiral down into a maelstrom of self-loathing when…

"Guys?" Willow's voice was a blessed distraction. "I think I might have something." Hooray! The sooner he killed Porthus, the better.

Willow stared at the screen. Someone who claimed to reside in Sunnydale had posted anonymously that they had some information about Porthus, or at least about why he was here. That was good, right?

Only...Willow sort of wished she'd read all the way through the post before she called everyone over, giving herself some time to digest it and give it a less dire spin. Because it looked like while on the one hand the news was sort of good – he wasn't here to kill someone or to open the Hellmouth – on the other hand the news was kind of creepy. Scratch that – _very_ creepy.

Porthus was tired of being lonely. He was in Sunnydale seeking a beautiful, powerful woman he wanted to have as his mate.

It had to be Buffy.

Ewww.

"It's a good thing she's not here, right?" she asked as she looked at the stricken expressions worn by the three standing around her once she'd finished telling them what she'd seen. "I mean, hey, if she's not in town, maybe he'll just leave and look for someone else."

"Or maybe he'll just start killing her friends one by one to get her attention and lure her back." Did Angel always have to be such a downer? Everyone stared at him and he looked abashed before adding. "It's something a demon might do."

"You mean something _you_ would have done," Xander said accusingly.

Angel shrugged and looked away, so Willow unaccountably came to his defense. "It was a good point, Xander. And it's not like Angel's responsible for what happened before he got his soul." She stopped herself before she mentioned the hyena possession. She preferred not to think about that time. Some of the things Xander had said still stung.

"Yes, well, that is a possible course of action on his part." Giles stroked his stomach for a moment, obviously recalling what Porthus had done to that other Watcher. "I would, naturally, prefer to think that Willow's hypothesis is correct, but…" His voice trailed off and Willow sighed.

Porthus was going to have to die.

Angel was doing his best to pay attention to Rupert and distract himself from his unsettling state of mind. As much as he hated himself for it, he had to admit that he almost gloried in the latest news.

Porthus probably posed no danger to the populace at large. He wasn't trying to make a big splash, perpetrate a massacre, or even open the Hellmouth. He had a specific purpose, yes, but one that played out in a very controlled arena.

The hideous little creep was looking for a girlfriend and he had a specific girl in mind – a beautiful girl with supernatural power.

It had to be Buffy.

No chance, buddy.

"Porthus isn't going to succeed, not in any way. Not as long as I'm around," Angel said, trying to be reassuring and counter Xander's demonic characterization of him. Willow, however, only offered him the ghost of a smile and the others didn't even give him that.

"Gosh, I'm feeling much better, what with a _vampire_ protecting me and all," Xander snarked. Angel suddenly wasn't at all sure he could spare the effort to guard the boy's life, what with protecting Willow and Rupert, too. Buffy wouldn't miss him _that_ much, would she?

"Xander," Willow chided gently, her eyes full of an affection the boy didn't deserve…didn't even notice, idiot that he was. "We can use Angel's help. I mean, without Buffy, we don't have anybody with super powers who can fight a demon, okay? And since this demon is actually _after_ Buffy, it's a _really_ good thing we have someone else to help take him down." Willow turned and graced him with a small smile that seemed to call him 'friend.' Angel fought against the desire to answer it.

Focusing on the others, he caught Rupert nodding imperceptibly in response to Willow's words, but Xander was a lost cause. Oh well. Angel didn't mind. It would save him the trouble of having to change his opinion of the boy.

Willow, though…the more time he spent with her…the more she was nice to him, defended him, treated him like a friend…

The sooner this was over and done with, the better. Then he could return to a life of solitary brooding and Buffy – just Buffy – as the center of his world.

Porthus was going to die.

Tbc…


	4. Chapter 4

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Four)

They'd scoured every book in the library and Willow had searched all over the internet, but what she'd found on that message board was everything more they seemed likely to find out about Porthus…until they actually ran into him, of course. Which kind of sucked since they didn't have a clue how to fight him. Most demons had pretty specific vulnerabilities and you couldn't just kill them any old which way.

And naturally, this was a demon it seemed more than likely they were going to _have_ to kill.

This was like being the person who shot the very last Passenger Pigeon or something. Although, come to think of it, her analogy was off since the last Passenger Pigeon actually died in a zoo. Okay, so she was like the person who shot the very last something-that-wasn't-a-Passenger-Pigeon.

That worked.

She got up from her seat at the computer, stretching as she yawned and looking out the window. Oh gosh. It was almost dark out. Had they really been here all day?

Angel couldn't believe the garbage and libel they put in books. That Slayer in Dublin? She'd gotten nowhere near him, let alone almost killed him. Could he file a lawsuit against the descendents of the man who wrote _Lester's Compendium of Supernatural Lore_? The worst part of it was that such trash was all he'd been able to find. Nothing, but nothing, on Porthus. No one made up stories about _him_. Not that fallacies would be any help, but…

And to top it all off, they had no idea how to kill the bastard.

Of course, they could always split up and try a variety of methods on the silver creep. Stake, flaming arrows, an axe…one of them was bound to work, right? Of course, he might be impervious to all three and need to be immersed in a vat of acid, or boiling water, or he'd need to be pulled apart by wild dogs or something (and no, Angel had no experience with that…well, not much). It would really help if they could at least narrow the list down. Hadn't anyone ever tried to kill this thing?

Angel looked up from _Grossman's Guide to Lesser Beings_ (and oh was the author aptly named…his stories made _Angel_ queasy, and he – or rather his soulless counterpart – had been the Scourge of Europe) and noticed that the sky had gone dark. Had he really been here all day?

"I better get home. I don't think my parents are going to buy me tutoring much later than this." Willow started gathering her things. After a day of barely worthwhile searching, she was really hoping that a lecture from her mom could be avoided. Her parents were barely home and when they were, all they wanted to talk about was where Willow fell short. Her friends weren't suitable, straight A's apparently weren't high enough grades… How depressing was it that she sometimes thought that she preferred it when her mother and father were far away?

"Your parents are in town? I thought they were in Israel for that conference thing," Xander responded.

"That was last month. This month was supposed to be Toronto, but the symposium got cancelled or something."

"Your parents were gone for the whole of last month?" Giles seemed genuinely shocked.

"They have busy careers. It's no big deal. I can take care of myself." Willow glared at Xander as she cut him off. She wasn't looking for pity. And what if Giles went off half-cocked and called Social Services or something? Not that he would, she knew, but still, having him know just how little time her parents spent at home made her nervous

"It's not that you aren't an exceptionally bright and capable young woman – you are, and far beyond your years, I might add. But Sunnydale is hardly a safe place for you to be living, well, on your own, as it were."

"Which is why I'll be walking her home," Angel said, injecting himself into the conversation. He'd been horrified by what he'd heard. How could her parents be so utterly unconcerned? A flashback to his own youth, and a rather unpleasant one, gave him a new respect for the strength of Willow's character. At least she wasn't drowning her sorrows in drink and sex…although he had to admit, if she were, she wouldn't be wasting her time pining away for Xander Harris. Of course, following Angel's example _completely_ would be bad – though the sudden vision of what Willow might be like as a vampire wasn't nearly as repellent as it should be – but why was she such a very good girl when there was no one around to care?

"There's no need. I can drive Willow home." Giles's response cut through his thoughts and offered him an out. That could be a good thing.

"If her parents saw her getting out of a teacher's car, they might ask questions. I'm a lot better at being surreptitious." Wait a minute. Was he actually fighting with Giles over this? Wasn't he supposed to be gratefully handing over the duty of making sure Willow got home safely?

"You're not seriously letting a vampire walk Willow home, right?" Xander interjected.

"Hey! I'm right over here, you know. Me – independent woman perfectly capable of deciding whose protection I need?" Angel stifled a chuckle at the incongruity of that last bit. Willow's brow was wrinkled adorably as she realized what she'd just said.

This was at least the second time he'd thought of her as adorable. He might need to worry about that.

"Angel's saved my life a bunch of times. I think I can trust him, okay?" Her face had an unexpectedly determined expression and Xander and Giles both seemed to wilt under her stare. There was obviously steel buried under her usual smile and it impressed him. How come he was only now figuring out that there was more to this girl than he'd thought?

For once, Willow's vote- backed by her Resolve Face – carried the day. She was walking home with Angel, though she wasn't actually sure why she'd wanted to since she'd have at least had stuff to talk about with Giles. Maybe she just wanted to take the road that kept her away from home for an extra minute or two, though Giles's Citroen didn't travel much faster than her feet and since she didn't have to stop for red lights or anything…

No, she wasn't buying her own excuse.

What she really wanted was the chance to find out why Angel had insisted on walking her home at all. It wasn't like he was her pal or anything. He barely spoke to her. So why was he all of a sudden so eager to be her guardian angel? Oops. She stifled a chuckle at her inadvertent pun.

A quick glance at him told her he'd caught her soft laughter. "I was just thinking about something. Something that didn't have anything to do with you." She offered him the most sincere and innocent smile she could manage. And hey, at least this was a good way to break the ice because, hello, they had been walking for what felt like ages and these were the first words either of them had uttered. Why was it that Angel made her too nervous to talk sometimes?

Sadly, the return of her capacity for speech was too late for any fact-finding, because she could see her house up ahead. There were no lights on. Not even the porch light.

They'd left town again. While she was gone.

Her shoulders slumped as she pondered her dark, empty house. Why was she surprised? Her parents did this all the time. Besides, given the way they always made her feel inadequate, she should be glad that they were gone.

So why wasn't she?

Angel should have been relieved. They'd made it to Willow's house without any real conversation (because talking would lead to bonding and that would be bad, right?) and now he could just say goodnight and go home, having done his duty and gotten her there safely – one-upping Rupert and irritating Xander in the process. That was all he wanted, right?

So why was he looking at the darkened house and thinking that the last thing he wanted to do was leave Willow here all alone?

She was used to that, right? She'd said as much in the library. She'd also all but stated that she preferred being by herself to having her parents around, so she wouldn't mind a bit having the night to herself. More than likely, she was itching for him to bid her farewell and take off. Then she could spend the evening in some chat box, or whatever they were called, talking about computer stuff with other computer types on the internet. She wouldn't be a bit lonely. Besides, it wasn't as if she knew Angel well enough for him to really be company.

So why was he still standing here, silent? Why was he actually hoping she'd invite him in?

Okay, the truth was, _he_ could use some company. After all, he didn't have a computer. All he had was a pathetically spartan apartment and a fixation on Porthus's undeserved stature in the demon realm and if he were alone with his thoughts tonight, he just might be driven to stake himself.

It wasn't that he was so interested in spending time with _Willow_, he told himself. Tonight, he'd settle for anybody, even Xan…okay, not anybody.

He kept waiting and he noticed that Willow…was doing exactly the same thing – standing awkwardly as if she were waiting for something. Oh no. Was he going to have to invite himself? Because that was _not_ his style. He'd just say goodbye now, and…

"Wanna come in for a few minutes? I mean, as you can see, my parents aren't here, and hey, you've never seen my house before, not the inside anyway, and…" She fidgeted and stammered and colour rose in her cheeks.

"I'd like that," he interrupted, unable to stop himself from smiling. She was fetching – no, he was not going to think of that word again – _charming_ when she was flustered.

"Okay. Great." Great indeed. Angel was actually going to spend time in her house. With her. How weird was this? They were actually going to have a conversation. Well, probably, because what else were they going to do? Buffy said Angel didn't even own a TV so she was pretty sure he wouldn't want to watch videos or anything. How did you entertain a vampire anyway?

Oh God. She didn't even have any blood, well, not unless you counted the blood that was currently in her veins and she was pretty sure he didn't want that, at least she hoped not, because that would be bad, and…

Okay, she was in the house and Angel wasn't. He was standing on the stoop staring at her expectantly. She turned on the lights, but he still kept standing right where he was. What did he want, an engraved invitation?

"Willow, I need you to invite me in."

He did.

This was ridiculous. She knew that he was born over two hundred years ago and all, but was he really still such a stickler for formality?

"Vampire?" he said as if he was prompting her to remember something she was supposed to know. She wasn't getting it. "I can't come in unless you invite me."

Her cheeks flamed so hot she thought she might be spontaneously combusting, just like that girl in England who…and that was so irrelevant right now. "Come in. I invite you, I mean to…come in." Had she ever been this humiliated?

Well, there _had_ been the talent show, but this was pretty close. This might actually be worse than spending tonight by herself. She watched Angel closely for any sign that he was about to either mock her or turn tail and leave.

He did neither. "Thanks," he said as he walked in with an absolutely normal – for Angel anyway – expression on his face. Okay, maybe the night wasn't a total disaster. At least not yet.

Angel stepped into Willow's house. It was like stepping into another world. It really was. He'd seen a movie once, years ago in New York – if memory served, it had been called _The Stepford Wives_. Its setting had been almost as sterile and phony as this living room. Did people actually live here? All of a sudden, his apartment didn't look so bad at all. Sure, it was impersonal, too, but at least he wasn't actually trying. Effort had been put into decorating this room and it looked as if that effort had been made by androids.

He shook his head before he realized what he was doing. Oh great. Lovely manners there, Angel. It's always correct form to insult the home of your hostess.

"Nice house," he said, hoping he sounded sincere.

"My mom hired a decorator," Willow said. He wasn't sure whether she was boasting or deflecting blame. He had an odd feeling it was the latter. If he'd learned nothing else today, he'd learned that Willow had more depth and complexity than he'd given her credit for in the past.

There was more silence and Angel discovered one good reason why he hadn't had any friends in decades – lots of them. This small talk thing? He had no talent for it.

"You're really good on that computer," he said, grasping for something to talk about. "Without you, we wouldn't know anything useful about Porthus."

She grinned and Angel inwardly patted himself on the back. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

He waited for her to sit and then he sat on the couch beside her. "How did you get into this internet stuff anyway?"

She stared at him, eyes as wide as saucers, as if she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. It suddenly occurred to him that he might well be the first person who'd ever asked her this question. Scratch the maybe on that 'not so bad.'

Of course, now there was no going back. After tonight, he was…well…Willow's friend. "Seriously, I've never actually known anyone who was into computers. How did you get to be so good on them?"

That was all the prodding she needed. He got the feeling he wasn't going to need to come up with anything else to say for a long time.

But unlike those nights when Buffy had gone and on about her mom's rules or her old high school, he didn't find himself hoping for a vamp to rise so they could stake it or something. Willow's story was actually holding his attention. Maybe it was the way she told it. After all, she used a lot of gestures and her voice was animated. Or maybe it was the fact that, since Willow wasn't the girl he was probably in love with, he wasn't eager to get the chance to kiss her or anything, so he was more patient with conversation.

Or maybe what she had to say was just more interesting to him.

Great, this meant he had guilt waiting for him later.

Oh well. It would keep. What was that Willow was saying about her former principal and gay porn?

Tbc…


	5. Chapter 5

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Five)

Willow woke up feeling stiff, uncomfortable…and oddly upright.

Oh.

That would be because she'd fallen asleep sitting on the couch. Huh?

It took her a moment to get her bearings and remember the events that had put her in this position – and when she did she panicked. Light was pouring through the front window and Angel was nowhere to be seen. Oh God! She hyperventilated, looking all over the couch, then lifting the cushions, scanning every inch of the ugly, awkward monstrosity. Was that dust? No – she nearly cheered – just fuzz and lint. Phew. She hated to think that being nice enough to spend the evening with her might have cost Angel his life…unlife…whatever it was that a vampire lived…or unlived…or whatever.

She took a moment to catch her breath and try to think of where he could be when she noticed something. There was a piece of paper sitting on the coffee table. Had she spotted it earlier, she could have saved herself the anxiety attack. It was a note – from Angel.

Willow,

She stopped reading for a moment and just admired his penmanship. The way his letters were formed; the little flourish at the end of the last 'w' in her name. How could anyone write so elegantly with a ball point pen?

Thank you for a lovely evening. I will see you at the library this afternoon.

Angel

It was formal, yes, and perhaps even impersonal, but how could it be anything else? Eighteenth century penmanship kind of dictated an Emily Post sort of text, didn't it? What mattered, frankly, was that he had bothered to leave a note in the first place. It wasn't like her parents had. All they'd done was leave the credit cards and the gas bill on the kitchen table. Obviously, they found sentimental gestures unimportant.

Willow sighed deeply as she headed upstairs to take a shower.

She hoped she hadn't bored Angel last night with all her computer talk. Sure, he'd asked questions and stuff, but maybe he'd just done that to be polite. Oh God. What if she'd been so boring that he couldn't wait to get out of her house?

Angel lay on his bed, feeling strangely… refreshed

Despite only about three hours of sleep, he was awake and alert and rejuvenated. Perhaps that was because, weirdly enough, his dreams hadn't been filled with the usual torments – no past victims forcing him to relieve his crimes, no Buffy in skimpy outfits leading him on (not that he actually felt she was a tease or anything) – nothing but an overwhelming sense of…something that wasn't painful or depressing.

He was terrified. Did this mean he was losing focus? That his precious redemption would slip through his fingers? Just how necessary were self-hatred and brooding and in what quantities? Was he going to lose it all, be damned to Hell like any soulless, evil vampire, just because he'd spent a night in pleasant conversation?

And it really _had_ been pleasant. Absolutely no talk of demons, prophecies, or shoes. Just two people with surprisingly similar taste in books, and a chance to find out some of the things he'd missed because he'd pegged computers as some boring science fad years ago and never bothered to pay enough attention to see that he'd really had them all wrong.

There was porn online? With leather?

Not that Angel would be interested in looking for that sort of thing; it was just good to know so that he could avoid those sites if, by chance, he happened to buy a computer, that was all.

Actually, Willow _had_ made the online world seem fascinating. There were all sorts of things you could learn, even whole books you could read at your leisure. Angel had once had an extensive personal library and he missed it terribly. Finding some old favorites to read online might be nice, though not as pleasurable an experience as sitting in a favorite chair with a glass of brandy at hand, leafing through the pages of a leather-bound volume. Still – it would be something.

He went to the kitchen to heat up some blood before showering and heading back to the library. Sure, they'd been through what seemed like nearly every book in existence and only Willow had found anything useful – and that was online – but still, what else did he have to do? It wasn't as if he could walk over to Willow's house, now was it?

Besides, the thought occurred to him that she might not want him there. She'd fallen asleep last night after all. Okay, it was probably because she was tired – humans were prone to sleeping at night – but still, what if fatigue hadn't been the reason? It wasn't as if he'd done his share to keep up the conversation. Asking questions wasn't really reciprocation. What if she'd been so bored with having to do all the talking that she couldn't keep her eyes open?

Willow had finished showering and dressing, so now what was she going to do? Her parents weren't home, so she didn't have to worry about making excuses, but for some reason she wasn't so very eager to go back to the library. Yes, Angel had said in his note that he expected to see her there, but that didn't actually mean anything. It wasn't as if he'd written that he was looking _forward_ to seeing her, just that he _would_. Good old Willow, the bookworm/hacker/geek extraordinaire. Where else would she be?

She was getting kind of tired of being so predictable. Besides, it wasn't as if the research they were doing was getting them anywhere. Maybe it was time to take another tack – hit the streets (she'd always wanted to use that phrase) and do some recon (another phrase she longed to work into an actual conversation). Willie's was the place to be for demons – she'd head over there and ask a few questions, nose around, see what was up and if Porthus was actually in Sunnydale. She'd just call Giles and…

Wait a minute. Why did she have to call Giles? Because if she did, he'd only tell her that it was 'too dangerous' – and how stupid was that after everything she'd braved already? She just knew he'd have a patronizing look on his face when he said it, too, even over the phone. The same went for Xander (who would just tell her that she wasn't Buffy) and Angel (who'd repeat the 'too dangerous' line _and_ the 'not Buffy' thing and point out that he'd had to save her life a week ago - which was only because she'd been caught off-guard, which she wouldn't be ever again - and then go to Willie's himself after sundown). They wouldn't even offer to go with her – she knew that. They'd just tell her it wasn't something she could do.

Well...Ha! That's what she said: Ha! She'd show them that she was good for more than just research or standing on the sidelines while Buffy slew things. Boring, geeky, bookworm Willow who needed to be kept safe? Again: Ha! She could do the dangerous stuff. In fact, 'Danger' was her middle name!

Well…it would have been if her parents hadn't chosen 'Danielle' instead.

Angel was out of the shower, dressed, and his breath was fresh (no sense, he reminded himself, in slacking off - Buffy would be back someday and...well...she was his sort-of-kind-of-in-a-way-or-at-least-use

d-to-be-girlfriend) – now what was he going to do? There were hours and hours of daylight left, but he was wide awake and in no mood to go back to bed. Besides, he was dressed and his mouth tasted of harsh, artificial mint. He might as well go to the library.

More fruitless research. Yesterday, they had made their way through at least half of the relevant volumes and it was highly unlikely there was anything different in the others. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't looking forward to discovering any more libelous accounts of people who had 'almost' staked Angelus. They hadn't – not a one of them (and he knew that for a fact without reading another page). He'd been the Scourge of Europe, for pity's sake. How could he have achieved that if it was so incredibly easy to get the drop on him?

Watchers, demon hunters, and their ilk were the most gullible, self-deluding dullards ever born.

Angel decided to skip it – forget about research. He'd take the tunnels over to Willie's and see if he could find out anything through the demon grapevine. He'd meant to do that last night, but what with spending so much time at Willow's…

Willow. He'd told her that he'd meet her at the library today. A part of him was assured that what he'd written in that note hadn't been a promise, and after all, she might have gotten more than enough of his company last night, but…

With a heavy sigh, Angel pulled on his leather jacket and headed for the tunnels…to the library it was.

Willow walked into Willie's in what she hoped was a confident manner. She was dressed in as serious and demon-fighter-y a way as she could manage – a black sweatshirt borrowed out of her father's closet, blue jeans, and her hair pulled back in a bun. Tucked under her sweatshirt was the giant cross pendant Buffy had given her for Christmas (and okay, it should have been a Hanukkah gift, but then again, would it really be appropriate to give someone a cross for Hanukkah?) last year. She'd even worn boots, which meant that no one could see the smiley-face socks she was wearing. Yesirree, she was ready for battle (well, as long as it wasn't really all that battle-y), or at least for questioning the locals.

She walked up to the bar. "Hey, Willie," she chirped at the man with the servile posture. Sadly, she hadn't been able to keep herself from smiling at him. This was not going to help her demon fighter street cred.

"Hey there," Willie said nervously. "So, how's your pal, the Slayer, these days?" That question was asked a bit too loudly and Willow noticed the two or three figures who'd been seated at tables slink towards the door. Oh great. She was already a failure. How could she find out stuff without anybody to question?

One last customer, though, stayed right where he was. It seemed kind of odd to Willow that he hadn't headed towards the back since he just had to be a vampire. He was tall and slender with naturally blond hair (and okay, she knew that mostly from observation of the emergence of Buffy's roots between the monthly touch-ups which her friend always denied) and pale skin and he looked completely human - just like vamps did when they weren't all 'grr'. Actually, he was kind of...handsome. Maybe not as hot as Angel or anything (not that she thought about Angel that way, but on a purely objective level – yeah she had noticed that her best friend's boyfriend wasn't exactly unattractive), but the guy at the other end of the bar was still quite good-looking. Oh my.

Trying hard to be surreptitious (and all while trying not to stare), she pulled the pendant out from under her shirt. Hopefully that would keep him at bay, because she was pretty sure that this guy had been around too long for her to be able to stake. "Willie?" she asked, mostly because she needed to stop looking at the blond guy. "Have you seen anybody new around?" She almost trembled as she realized that said blond guy/probable vamp was staring at her – despite the giant cross. Maybe he couldn't see it. She _was_ kind of turned away from him.

"Nope, can't say as I have," Willie said, his manner so shifty that Buffy would have beaten him up on principle had she been here. Sadly, Willow wasn't exactly adept at fisticuffs or anything.

She felt weak and ashamed for doing it, but she had no choice – she was gonna have to play the Buffy card. "If I call Buffy and tell her that you've been uncooperative…" She did her best to sound threatening.

Willie actually looked fearful! Yay! At least if she'd had to play that card, she'd done it well. Willow inwardly patted herself on the back as he stammered a reply, but sadly, all it consisted of was: "There's nothing new going on. I'd tell ya if there was, I swear." The 'please don't tell the Slayer' was unspoken, but still there.

"Now, now," came a slightly-accented voice. "That's not exactly true, is it? After all, I'm new." The probably-a-vamp guy came walking over to her end of the bar. Oh.

She decided to head him off at the pass (not _that_ kind of pass, because...hello, Willow, not Buffy standing here, but a pass of a different kind) and turned to face him, cross on full display. Shockingly, he didn't flinch, not even a little bit. He _wasn't_ a vampire? What was he doing here then?

"You should never lie to a beautiful woman," the man chided Willie, and for a moment Willow wondered what he was talking about when…did he mean _her_? Woman…beautiful?

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, in that really nice but indefinable accent as he once again faced Willow. "My name is Dietrich."

Angel entered the library. Rupert and Xander were there, that he could see right away. He got the impression they'd just finished bickering about something. It was the look on the older man's face – exasperation mixed with resignation. He saw that look a great deal.

But it was what he _didn't_ see that bothered him. "Where's Willow?" he asked, not caring what they'd think of him for asking that first thing.

"I guess she's at home. Probably couldn't get away from Sheila and Ira today," Xander replied far too casually for Angel's liking.

In fact, his ire at Xander's lack of concern took all the fun out of being able to tell him something about Willow that Angel knew first. "Her parents left town again yesterday."

"How did you know that?" Xander demanded.

"He escorted her home last night," Rupert interposed, obviously weary of conflict. Looked like Angel had been right about having just missed a round of squabbling.

"Yes, I did, and I also told her to meet us at the library today so we could do some more research." Okay, that wasn't an exact rendition of the truth, but it was close enough.

"Why don't I just call her house?" Rupert offered, just as Xander opened his mouth. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she isn't here." His tone brooked no disagreement, so Xander's mouth closed without a sound. That was a blessing – a small one, but still…

Rupert dialed the number and Angel waited for him to speak, to let them know that Willow had answered the phone. But seconds passed and there was nothing; nothing, that is, but the change of Rupert's expression from bland to uncertain to worried. Obviously, there was no answer at Willow's house. "She doesn't seem to be at home," he said quietly.

"I'm going over there," Xander said emphatically as he almost leapt from his seat.

Rupert wasn't looking at the boy, however. His eyes locked with Angel's; it was obvious they both were worried about the same thing.

What if Porthus had already discovered that Buffy wasn't in Sunnydale? What if he'd taken Willow hostage to lure her back, just as Angel had predicted?

Dammit! It had never occurred to them that he'd make a move this quickly, but what if he had? It wasn't as if that stupid creature was a vampire; there was nothing to say that he wasn't perfectly capable of operating in daylight, despite the obvious fact that even in Sunnydale you'd think he'd be conspicuous. Yet, with a populace as oblivious as that in this town…

It was a very real possibility that Willow was in dire peril, even as he stood here, helplessly trapped by the daylight. Had he saved her life from those pathetic fledglings only to see it lost anyway?

"I'll call you from there and let you know what I find," Xander said to Giles as he headed out the door. Angel could hear him start running. It seemed that he might be worried about the same thing that Angel and Rupert were.

But as the heavy sound of Harris's footfalls disappeared, Angel realized, almost happily, that he wasn't _completely_ trapped after all. Sure, going to Willow's house was out of the question, but Xander was taking care of that anyway. In a situation like this, time was of the essence. They needed to cover all their bases as quickly as possible. And there was one place he could go where he might just pick up important information.

"Stay here and wait for Xander's call," Angel said as he hurried towards the tunnels.

"Where are you going?" Giles called out.

"Willie's."

Tbc…


	6. Chapter 6

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Six)

"My name is Dietrich."

There was something Willow was supposed to say in response; she was sure of it. The problem was that she couldn't remember what it was. A good-looking man was talking to her and her brain had shut down completely.

Her palms started to sweat and she wiped them on her jeans. Her name – she suddenly remembered. That's what she was supposed to say – her name! "I'm Willow," she said, hoping she didn't seem like a total dork.

"Willow," he repeated with a smile. Wow. Her name sounded sort of pretty the way he said it.

"Willow, that's me." Sooner or later she'd think of something else to say, right? Oh God. "And you're Dietrich." _That_ was her something else to say?

He kept smiling – and it didn't look like he was mocking her either. Maybe he didn't think she was the world's biggest idiot. Okay, _why_ didn't he think she was the world's biggest idiot? Because _Willow_ sure thought she was the world's biggest idiot and…she needed to pay attention, because he was talking now.

"What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"

"She's a friend of the Slayer," Willie chimed in.

"I believe I heard you say as much earlier," Dietrich said, his tone rather snide, though it still sounded lovely.

"I'm uh…I'm looking for someone," she stammered out. He knew what a Slayer was? But he wasn't a vampire. He couldn't be. And she'd never heard of a demon that looked like him either. So…

"I do a bit of demon-hunting," he offered, as if he knew what she was thinking. "Maybe I can help you find what you're looking for."

"How did you…?"

"You're in _this_ place, looking for someone, and you're a friend of the Slayer. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce your mission."

"Oh," she said. "But why are you…?"

"Why am I here?" He was still smiling at her. It was a very attractive smile, with completely human-looking teeth. "Where better to hunt for a supernatural creature than an active Hellmouth?"

"You know about that?" This was getting really weird. A stranger in town who knew about Slayers and demons and hellmouths? He was officially more aware than anyone in town who wasn't a personal friend of Buffy's. She was getting a wiggins.

"I know about a lot of things." He leaned on the bar. The word 'insouciant' came to mind and Willow was finding it weird to actually see someone in real life and not just in a novel who that word suited. "Why don't you tell me who you're looking for? You never know. I might have some information for you."

"You've probably never heard of this guy. I mean we didn't until the other day and Giles has the most extensive library and there's almost nothing in there and…"

Dietrich put his finger to her lips just as Willow realized that she'd probably been really indiscreet. It was strange and disturbingly...intimate having him touch her that way. "It never hurts to ask."

"Okay," she said, taking a breath as he took his finger away. "This demon we're looking for is called Porthus and…"

"Porthus," Dietrich said. "What an astonishing coincidence."

"What do you mean?" He sounded like he'd heard the name before. How…?

"He's actually the demon who brought me here."

A voice broke in from behind Willow. "Well, that really _is_ an astonishing coincidence. Willow, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" What on Earth was Angel doing here?

What on Earth was Willow doing here? It was all he could do to keep his true face from emerging. He'd raced over here, his mind full of visions of the horrible things that could have befallen her at the hands of that scrawny, silver Porthus and what does he find? Willow standing at the bar, merry as could be, chatting up some Eurotrash wannabe. He wanted to snap her neck.

Speaking of necks…he'd never seen her hair up before. She had a very, very lovely throat.

Just then, she turned and faced him. Ack! He leapt back, covering his eyes. Have the decency to warn a vampire when you're wearing a gigantic cross, would you please?

Whatever she'd been about to say changed. "Oh gosh!" she cried. After a moment, he peered between his fingers and saw that she had tucked that horrible thing under her sweatshirt. "I'm so sorry, Angel!" She'd better be.

"You know this vampire?" The man at the bar asked. He was looking at Willow in a way that set Angel's teeth on edge. He looked…interested in her.

Huh? Why would he be…well, okay, Willow wasn't ugly or anything. He himself had thought she was fetching (yes, he was admitting it), and right now, with her hair up and wearing clothes that weren't childish, he could go further than that in his appreciation of her charms. But this was _Willow_ - sweet, pure, innocent Willow – not the kind of girl you picked up in a demon bar. Though she was _in_ a demon bar right now and she _was_ letting this oily creep talk to her and…focus, Angel. "She knows me very well," he answered, surprised at his own innuendo. More surprising still was the fact that he realized he was also putting his arm around her.

She was his friend. He was being appropriately protective. Who knew what the guy had in mind? Sure, he _said_ he was a demon hunter, but Angel was getting a less than wholesome vibe off of him and Willow would be better off if the creep thought she was unavailable. If he had information about Porthus, he could give it to Angel.

"I didn't know friends of Slayers consorted with vampires." He still wasn't looking at Angel, who was getting more than a bit ticked off by that.

Okay, maybe Angel _was_ used to being the focus of both female _and_ male interest.

Willow was looking at him, however. In fact, she all but glared at him. "Angel's kind of an ally," she said. "He's really more Bu…I mean the Slayer's friend than mine."

Angel heard her stumble – ouch – but he appreciated her save as she strove to maintain discretion. He was distracted, though. Something the guy said bothered him. 'Friends of Slayers.' If he'd heard anything about Slayers, he knew they didn't have friends – at least not according to the literature – and if he knew differently, well that knowledge didn't come from any book. How did he acquire it? Angel himself had never encountered a Slayer who wasn't alone and friendless, a slave to her sacred duty – not until Buffy (who was a slave to nothing…except maybe spandex).

He had a bad feeling about this guy.

And not just because the creep was still eying Willow.

This was getting weird. Not quite 'Giles in a tutu' weird, but still pretty weird. A cute guy was looking at her and talking to her and all that stuff that guys did with Buffy and Angel had his arm around her. Was she dreaming? That had to be it, right? Because this just could not be happening.

She was about to pinch herself to wake herself up when it occurred to her that this might be a prophetic dream. Buffy was usually the one who had those – she _was_ the Chosen One – but with Buffy on vacation, maybe Willow was getting them…sort of a 'relief dreamer' situation. And if she was, she didn't want to miss out on any important information.

Wiping her still damp palms on her jeans, she asked Dietrich, "You were saying that you're looking for Porthus, right? Is he here? Do you know where he is?" She wanted to get things back on track. After all, she was dreaming, so what mattered most was getting all the juicy stuff before she woke up.

She _was_ dreaming, right?

Oh god, she thought as she wiped her palms on her jeans yet again –she wasn't. No one's palms sweat this much when they were dreaming.

But maybe she'd find stuff out anyway.

"I'm afraid I can't say where he is," Dietrich said, acting as if he had no idea what a nervous geek she was. "All I can tell you is that he's here on a mission and he won't leave until it's accomplished."

"Or until I kill him," Angel said. Why did he always have to be so disagreeable? She still wasn't all that happy about the idea of killing the one and only…whatever it was that Porthus was.

"You really think you can manage that? He's been alive for centuries…millennia. I'm sure he didn't manage that by sheer luck."

Dietrich and Angel were now staring each other down and it was even weirder than before. Was Dietrich really a demon hunter? Because he kind of seemed to be rooting for Porthus, and while that made sense for Willow, she sort of felt like demon hunters were supposed to be more of a 'kill first and ask questions never' kind of bunch.

"How do you know so much about him, Dietrich?" Willow asked. Angel looked irritated – guess he'd been about to ask the same question. Well, too bad. Willow could interrogate sources, too – and how cool was it that she could actually say she was interrogating a source? This might actually be her best summer ever.

"I've been shadowing him for quite some time. No one has ever assembled a history, an accurate description of who and what he is. He's a mystery to those who toil in the world of demons and the supernatural – a legend, a phantom. Think of the glory to the one who succeeds in documenting him, in making him _known_." Dietrich stood a bit taller. He looked…arrogant. Suddenly, she didn't like him as much, though she wasn't quite sure why.

Was Angel's arm still around her? Yikes, it was.

"So, you think you're going to be the new Phineas Lester or something?" Angel asked, realizing as he did so that he was tightening his grip on Willow's shoulder.

"I see myself more as a successor to Matthias Grossman, actually." Angel suppressed a snort. It figured. And it made sense. After all, this guy was nearly as nauseating as Grossman's demonic anecdotes.

Still, for all the contempt he felt, there was also unease. This guy was dropping all the right names and his story was plausible, yet…it was all just a little too pat. Angel had never been one for believing the believable. Being a fabled creature who wasn't supposed to exist had a way of skewing your vision. But for all that, he was usually right. And this – Dietrich (that was what Willow had called him, he was sure)? He was a wrong guy.

"We should get going," Angel said to Willow. "Since _Dietrich_," he said the man's name dismissively, "doesn't have any information that will help us, we're going to need to keep researching." With that, he took advantage of the fact that his arm was around Willow to abruptly steer her towards the entrance to the tunnels.

She stumbled slightly and he moved his hand under her arm to keep her standing; in doing so he managed to brush against…oh my. He hadn't realized she was quite as curvy as she was. Why did she always wear such baggy clothes? And why was he thinking like this about Willow? He had a perfectly good, and always scantily-dressed, kinda-sorta-maybe-in-a-way-but-probably-not-now-that-he-thought-about-it girlfriend who was coming back from Los Angeles…someday.

Come to think of it, Willow should stick to the baggy clothes. And go back to bright colours.

She couldn't believe the way Angel was acting; dragging her out of Willie's before she'd even finished interrogating Dietrich. He was a big wet-blanket, that's what he was. And hey! Watch the hands! She was saving those for Xander. Not that they were that much to save, but they were all she had and…yeah, saving – very much with the saving.

"Willow," Dietrich said as he followed them towards the tunnel entrance to which Angel was practically dragging her. "Here's my card." He handed it to her and she managed to grab it and shove it in her pocket before Angel could intercept it. "I might find out more soon. My calls get forwarded from this number, so feel free to contact me anytime." For a moment she actually thought he was going to ask for her number in exchange, but Angel – the big, brooding meanie – was a pretty inhibiting presence.

"Thank you, I will," she said as Angel pulled her all the way into the tunnel entrance with him.

"Be careful," Dietrich called out. "Porthus isn't a creature to be trifled with."

That was the last thing she could hear before the darkness swallowed them up. Darn!

She was about to yell at Angel when he suddenly pulled her close to him and…"Eep!" she cried as he leapt down instead of using the ladder. "What is it with you, huh? I had more questions I wanted to ask!" He put her down and she turned her Resolve Face on him full force. Of course, it was dark down here and she wasn't totally sure she was facing him…or that he could see her.

It might still work, though, right?

"He told us everything he was going to." Angel was obviously jealous that she'd once again outdone him in getting information. Too bad.

"How do you know?"

He couldn't believe her. Buying Dietrich's line. Thinking his vague repackaging of what they already knew about Porthus was something new and important. Taking that disreputable wretch's card. Knowing her, she _would_ call him. She probably thought the only thing the guy wanted to do was help her find Porthus. And that might be true if Porthus was lurking behind Dietrich's fly – he saw the way that lech was leering at Willow. A pure and innocent young thing like her, alone and defenseless – she was irresistible…to guys like that.

And now here she was, yelling at him for protecting her from the potential consequences of her own naïveté, daring to question his judgment, a judgment born from centuries of real experience, not clicking around on a computer – ungrateful!

He decided not to dignify her with an answer. Instead, he decided to give her a piece of his mind.

"What the hell were you doing there anyway? Do you have any idea what Rupert and I were going through? And Xander?" He added that last as an afterthought. "We had no idea where you were. We thought you'd been kidnapped!"

"Well I wasn't." She was on the defensive now.

"But we had no way of knowing that, now did we? You know where Xander is? At your house looking to see if you're lying there dead! And Rupert is waiting by the phone in the library, terrified that one of us will call with terrible news and…"

The scent of tears hit him. Oh no. He hadn't meant to make her _cry_. He just wanted her to feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and fear, that was all – enough to keep her at home or the library only from now on.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that I…I mean _we_…were worried about you. You don't know how dangerous it is with a demon we barely understand on the loose. Anything could have happened to you."

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, blowing her nose into the hankie. She could keep it, he decided.

"It's okay," he said, his tone soft and comforting. "But let's hurry up and get back to the library, okay?" He saw the nod of her head – there were advantages to enhanced vision – and he took her hand, guiding her through the darkness.

The rest of the journey back to Sunnydale High was made in silence.

Was there any way Angel could manage to get that card away from her?

Tbc…


	7. Chapter 7

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Seven)

"What were you thinking?"

Thanks, Xander.

Willow wanted to put her hands over her ears. Did he need to yell so loudly? Okay, she got that he was upset, and maybe Angel was right and she should have told them where she was going, only now that she saw the reaction she was getting, she was thinking she'd probably done it right after all. The more she thought about it, the more she was pretty sure they'd all overreacted in the first place. Willow isn't in exactly the same place at the same time that she was yesterday so let's panic and assume she's dead?

Was she really so pathetic and predictable?

"I was thinking maybe I could find out some stuff about Porthus. You know, instead of wasting time waiting for him to try to play caveman with Buffy?"

"I was going over there tonight," Angel replied.

"Well I guess I saved you the trouble." Willow faced him, arms akimbo, and she could feel the heat rising in her face.

"What you did was very foolish, Willow. You could easily have been hurt…or even killed." Giles was staring down the bridge of his nose at her in a way he usually reserved for Buffy when she went off half-cocked…or when she wore platforms while slaying.

"But I wasn't, so everything's okay, and no one needs to be upset." She switched gears so fast she almost gave herself whiplash as she flashed Giles a toothy grin. It didn't work. He was still giving her the grim British look of disapproval.

"Do you know where I've been?" Xander asked. "I've been at your house looking for bloodstains or even your dead body. We thought you'd been kidnapped!"

Willow wanted to ask what kind of kidnapper would leave the corpse of his victim where it could easily be found before he had a chance to make demands, but as much as she loved Xander, she acknowledged that he and logic would never have a close relationship, so she bit her tongue (literally, in fact, and it wasn't a pleasant sensation).

It was Angel's turn and he didn't disappoint. "I want your word that you'll never do anything like this again."

"Yeah, what he said," Xander added. Of all the things for him and Angel to bond over.

And who did they think they were anyway? Okay, Angel had super powers, but Giles got injured on patrol a lot more than Willow did and Xander was no better with a stake than she was. So how come they got to be all brave and risk their lives and not Willow? It was discrimination, that's what, and Willow was not going to stand for it. She was a modern woman – well, almost a woman – and the patriarchal establishment the three of them served was not going to oppress her. She had as much right to get herself maimed or killed as they did, and anyway, she hadn't even come close to getting hurt this time.

"You want my word?" she asked. "I'll give you my word." She saw a look of smug relief, in three distinct varieties, and then she continued. "You want to know what my word is? It's 'NO.'"

No? What did she mean 'no'?

Angel could barely contain his ire and he struggled to keep his human mask in place – although it might not have been a bad idea to flash a little fang. In his day, a woman would never have dared…okay, his day was over two centuries ago and times had changed and he had to admit he'd always fancied women with some spirit, but…and when did he start thinking about Willow and women he fancied at the same time? Because no, she was definitely not in that category, despite the sort-of-but-not-actually-a-jolt he'd gotten when his hands had accidentally strayed and…

"What do you mean 'no'?" Xander asked. It was disturbing to have the boy thinking the same thing he was, but he consoled himself by reasoning that even a dead rat would have the same thought – it was pretty obvious and rudimentary.

"I mean no. I get that you guys were worried, and I'm sorry. But if I had said anything to you first, you would have said I couldn't, and it's not fair. Everyone else gets to do all the exciting stuff, but poor, helpless Willow has to stay in the library and do research. I can do other stuff, too, you know. Like today." Her colour was high and there was a vein in her neck that was pulsing temptingly. Angel really should have eaten more…or maybe taken himself in hand in the shower this morning. He wasn't sure which. He was also having a hard time concentrating on his anger. Was it wrong that he was hoping Buffy _would_ come back early, just because he needed her to help clear the confusion in his head?

Luckily, someone else was prepared to try to make things right. "Willow," Rupert began, "I realize that it seems chafing, but we're only interested in your safety."

"I get that, Giles, I do." Her expression was soft, as was her voice, and Angel hoped she was seeing reason. "But I can take care of myself. I really can. I mean, I went to Willie's and nothing bad happened at all."

Oh no. He should have known better. But what did she mean 'nothing bad happened'. "What about Dietrich?" he asked, forgetting that Willow didn't see him as the wrong guy he obviously was.

"Dietrich?" Xander and Rupert both asked.

"He's a demon hunter I met at Willie's. He's here looking for Porthus, too." She really bought that line? Angel couldn't keep from snorting. "What?" she asked, turning to face him directly, hands on hips. She was…okay, she had a certain charm when she was upset, but it didn't make her at all desirable, not one bit.

"I can't believe you fell for that."

"What do you mean, Angel?" Rupert interrupted.

"It was so obvious the guy was on the make."

"He was not!" Willow cried, and really what if he was? Was it evil to think she was pretty?

"Willow? You think he was trying to put the moves on _Willow_?" Xander nearly burst into laughter and Willow almost burst into tears. She had to admit she'd hoped she could use Dietrich's card to make Xander see her differently, to make him realize that she was a girl and not only that, but that she was the girl for him. It hurt to realize her hopes were in vain. Loving Xander was starting to seem like a big, stupid waste of time.

"Willow, this merely points up why you should not have gone to that establishment alone. You're a very attractive young woman and…" Giles's voice trailed off as everyone stared at him. "Yes, well, what I mean is that you're far too young to be in such a place at all. Willie's is hardly a fit environment for a girl your age."

Giles thought she was pretty? That was actually kind of cool, even if he was sort of a father figure and all. It was a big step up from all of the 'not-even-a-girl' kind of attention she was used to from all the guys at school. Maybe older men just saw her differently.

Angel was glaring at Giles – glaring! – and Xander was looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, so she was guessing no one else agreed with him. Great. Nice to know that her friends all thought she was a repulsive geek.

None of that was the point, though. No, the point was that Dietrich was probably a really good source of information – or he would be when Willow got the chance to talk to him without Angel looking over her shoulder.

"He _is_ a demon hunter and he might know stuff - important stuff." Blank looks from Xander and Giles told her that everyone had forgotten what she was talking about. Boy, she was sure feeling the love. "Dietrich? The guy we were talking about? The one I just met at Willie's? He's in Sunnydale specifically to learn about Porthus. He wants to be the next Grossman. I think he could really help us."

Angel snorted again. He really needed to stop doing that because it was darn annoying. Okay, she wasn't Buffy, she got that, but that didn't mean she had nothing useful to contribute. Did it take blonde hair and slayer powers to get respect these days?

"He _could_," she said emphatically.

"Yes, well, it would help if we had some way to get in touch with him, to assess his credibility." At least Giles was giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"He gave me his card," she caroled, eager to prove herself. And hey, was that a displeased look on Xander's face? Maybe it was making him jealous after all. Bonus! "Here." She reached into her pocket and was about to slide the card out when she spied Angel out of the corner of her eye. Oh no! He was going to make a grab for the card the minute she took it out, she just knew it. Overprotective, annoying, spoilsport vampire.

Change of plans. She pretended to struggle getting her hand out of her pocket and made lots of faces as she did. "It's kind of wedged in there," she said, hoping everyone would buy the lie. "I'll go home and then I can take off my jeans and get the card out and then I'll call you with the number – okay, Giles?"

Angel's mood – which had brightened considerably only seconds ago – now took a nosedive. He could even feel how dour his expression was. What did she mean she'd call with the number? He'd been prepared to snatch the card from her hand and now his plans were ruined.

Why couldn't she get the card out, anyway? Her jeans weren't tight. Not that Angel had looked all that closely or anything… but no, anyone could see that they were a fairly (and no, _not_ disappointingly) loose cut. The card should have slid out with ease.

He assessed her carefully. She was lying! The exasperating brat was lying! She just didn't want to give up the card; that was it.

He couldn't believe she was _lying_ to them. Willow never lied - _never_. She must have liked that sleazy roué. Probably wanted him to ask her out.

Still, he hadn't spent two centuries learning all about how to manage humans only to be stymied by a teenage girl. "Why don't you just go to the powder room or something and take it out there?" His expression was innocent as snow, or at least he tried to configure his features that way, but she still glared at him. Tough. He was – or rather, he and Rupert were – getting that card.

"Okay," she said, almost snapping. He could almost hear the words 'curses, foiled again' and he wanted to crow with satisfaction.

It didn't last. Too late he noticed that she was heading out the door all right, but she was carrying a piece of paper and a pencil. What was that about 'curses'?

"What was this Dietrich guy like?" Xander asked, distracting Angel from his frustration.

"Blonde, tallish…typical Eurotrash. You know – accent, fancy clothes, hand-kissing." Okay, he was embellishing with that last bit, but the guy was that type – Angel wasn't really lying.

"Oh dear," Rupert said. "And he gave Willow his card?"

"Yeah. Right in front of me, too."

"What's up with that? I mean, what would a guy like that want with Willow?"

Angel wasn't the only one staring at Xander in shock, though he wished he was. After Rupert's earlier remarks, he viewed the man with more than a bit of suspicion. A man his age shouldn't think that way about a teenage girl.

Okay, technically Angel _was_ older, and by more than a few years, but he'd been turned when he was younger than Rupert Giles, so…

He needed to just get off that track before he felt like either a hypocrite, a dirty old man, or both. Because of Buffy, of course, not Willow. Buffy was only a few months older, wasn't she? And that's who he was thinking of with the not-actually-a-dirty-old-hypocrite-thoug

hts. Absolutely. Buffy, the love of his unlife.

Time to return to paying attention to what was going on, because Willow was back. Smiling and cheerful and…had she taken her hair down? Damn…no, good, very good. She looked much…better, that was it, better with it down.

"Here's the number," she chirruped as she handed a piece of paper to Rupert. "He really is a demon hunter guy, Giles. I mean, how else would he know about Lester and Grossman and Slayers and…" Angel wanted to chuckle. That little slip was going to cost her.

"He knows about Slayers?"

"It's not like I told him anything. Willie's the one who said I was the Slayer's best friend, okay? And I never told Dietrich her name, so it's all still okay. Really."

Rupert actually seemed mollified. Angel was disgusted, but he kept his mouth shut. Willow would screw up again and next time she'd land herself under house arrest, right?

Somewhere in the midst of this rather chaotic conversation, he realized that the whole point of all of this – Porthus being sliced and diced – had gotten lost. But then again, which was the more immediate danger: an ugly silver creep no one had seen or an oily jerk on the make who they _had_? Angel knew which one his money was on.

"I know what you're thinking." Oh, she was talking to Rupert. "But he's not a vampire either." Too quickly she reached under her sweatshirt and…

Again – warn a vampire when you're about to break out a gigantic cross, okay?

"Sorry, Angel." He waited a moment before daring to take his hands away from his eyes. It was back under her sweatshirt…along with her…don't think about that. "I was wearing that right in front of him and he didn't even blink. He's human. He really is."

"Yes, well, I would still prefer to be the one who speaks with him next. If he is who he purports to be, surely he'll be more than willing to share his information with me. Thank you, Willow. You may well have come up with something very important here."

Huh? What? Where was the rest of the lecture?

Willow was beaming, absolutely beaming, and Angel immediately felt guilty for not wanting her to have a reason to smile like that.

"Xander, why don't you and Willow go – have…fun or something. There's really nothing else to be done here. One thing Willow was absolutely correct about is that it is highly unlikely we'll find anything of use about Porthus in any of these books."

"Sure thing, G-Man," Xander said. Rupert visibly winced but made no reply, which might have been a pity. Dignifying Xander with a response was the closest that boy would ever come to any dignity at all.

"Bye, Giles." She was grinning as she spoke, but her expression turned sour as she turned to Angel. "Good-bye."

Before the shock of her near-rudeness could even register on his face, Willow was gone. Which was just as well, since the expression also served for what happened next.

"Well, now that it's just the two of us, why don't we sit down and discuss this Dietrich character?"

Tbc…


	8. Chapter 8

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Eight)

Willow Rosenberg was officially giving up on any hope of a future with Alexander Harris.

She couldn't believe the things he had said to her about Dietrich while walking her home, "…probably trying to use you to get the lowdown on Buffy," being chief among them. She was so hurt and upset that she hadn't even let him into her house. She might have even said he was no longer welcome there at all – ever again. She wasn't sure though because by then she'd been crying.

Why didn't Xander think it was remotely possible that Dietrich might have been talking to her because she was Willow? After all, he didn't even seem to know who Buffy was, and he hadn't shown any undue interest in Willow's friendship with a Slayer at all. Of course, she hadn't actually spent much time with him…

Oh no. What if this _was_ some plot to get to Buffy? What if Dietrich was actually _working_ for Porthus, not looking for him at all?

What if Xander was right?

She was distracted from her distressing musings by the ringing of the phone. Might as well answer it – Giles or Angel could be calling to make sure she wasn't dead since they hadn't seen or spoken to her for fifteen whole minutes.

Bitter and irritated? Willow?

Picking up the phone, she did her best to sound polite and even-tempered. "Hello?"

"May I please speak to Willow Rosenberg?" The voice on the other end wasn't that of Angel or Giles.

Oh God. How did Dietrich get her number?

Angel was officially giving up on depending on humans to have sense.

He couldn't believe Rupert's attitude. Sure, the man was wary about this Dietrich character, but he wasn't interested in any of Angel's suggestions as to how to deal with him. 'Willow is a sensible young woman and I'm certain she learned from that unfortunate encounter with Moloch'? Was he kidding? And for a man who was supposed to be broad-minded, he had demonstrated an utterly narrow refusal to see reason.

Okay, the _Slayer_ wasn't supposed to harm human beings, but why on Earth did that extend to her support staff as well? After all, it wasn't as if Angel had posited the idea of _killing_ Dietrich; he'd merely suggested that fists could be as or more eloquent than words in certain circumstances. You'd think he'd suggested roasting the man alive – not that Angel would ever consider such a thing, mind – by the way Rupert reacted.

Of course, there was always the chance that Rupert was right. Maybe he was being a bit overprotective. Willow was the first friend he'd had in centuries and…

No, his opinions about her and Dietrich had nothing to do with the feel he'd accidentally copped at Willie's today.

He shook himself out of his irritation and reached into his pocket. Willow wasn't the only sneaky one, after all. Angel had managed to palm the paper with Dietrich's phone number right before leaving the library. Hopefully, Rupert would either think he'd lost himself or forgive Angel for it later.

But if not…

Really, who cared? It wasn't as if the Watcher was going to reject his help in the future over this and they weren't exactly pals now anyway. He picked up the receiver on his phone and dialed the number.

It was answered on the third ring, but just as Angel was about to speak, he heard: "Hello. This is Dietrich. I'm afraid I'm unavailable at the present time so please leave a message at the sound of the tone."

Angel hung up without saying a word. The message nagged at him. What kind of man was this guy? No last name?

Okay, Angel didn't actually use one either, but that wasn't the point. Humans _always_ did, didn't they?

Well, there _was_ Madonna …and Fabio… and possibly others (it wasn't as if he was all that familiar with popular culture, except when Buffy prattled on about it and he couldn't manage to tune her out). But that wasn't the point. This guy was supposed to be a demon hunter – an academic. He should use his last name, the way other professionals did.

Dammit. He wished he could see that card.

"Dietrich?" Willow said, her voice high and uncertain and tinged with the squeaking tone she usually had when speaking to members of the opposite sex who weren't Xander or Giles or Angel.

"Willow." She could almost _hear_ him smile, which was weird and kind of scary.

Speaking of scary… "How did you get my number?"

"The phone book. There's only one Rosenberg family in Sunnydale and I took a chance that you were a member of it."

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess." She furrowed her brow in thought for a moment. Something about what he said nagged at her slightly but realizing that she might look like Angel right now – what with his constantly brooding expression – sidetracked her and made her lose her train of thought – annoying vampire. "So…ummm…why did you call?"

"Does a man have to have a reason to call a beautiful woman?"

It was a sad commentary on the state of Willow's love life that those words made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and something in her brain light up like bright red neon with the word: "Suspicious!"

Her anxiety was diminished, however, by what he said next. "Actually, I thought we might compare notes on Porthus. There seems to be a specific reason he's in Sunnydale and it's probably something about which we need to be concerned."

"Oh," she said, even as she realized she was saying that meaningless syllable an awful lot. "That would probably be a good idea. Bu…I mean, the Slayer's Watcher kind of wants to talk to you, too, so maybe we could all…"

He cut her off. "I can meet with him sometime later. I'd rather spend more time with you first. What do you say we get together tonight? We can exchange information, perhaps over a glass of wine?"

Wine? How old did he think she was? She vacillated between being flattered and worried that if she looked that much older than her years and that disparity increased exponentially, by the time she was thirty-five, she might be getting senior citizen discounts at Denny's. "I'm sort of underage," she finally admitted. "I don't really think wine is such a great idea. Why don't we meet at The Bronze?" What had possessed her to suggest that? Oh well, it was too late now.

"The Bronze?" he asked.

"It's sort of a local hangout. Well, _the_ local hangout, really. If you're a teenager. Which I am. Are you sure you wouldn't rather just meet with Giles?" She fidgeted as she spoke, biting her lip and making odd hand movements. What kind of ridiculous geek was she? She was ruining everything – not that there was really an anything to ruin, but still…

He chuckled lightly and Willow reddened. She was so glad he wasn't there to see what a twitchy, dorky mess she was. "I'll meet you tonight at…The Bronze?"

Was he asking her to confirm the name? "Uh huh."

"Will eight o'clock suit you?"

"Okay," she said without thinking.

"I look forward to seeing you again" were the last words she heard before the click and the sound of a dial tone in her ear.

Wait!

Oh God! What had she just agreed to? Was she going on a… _date_?

What was she going to do? What was she going to say?

What was she going to _wear_?

Should he or shouldn't he? Because if he did, there'd be awkward explanations involved, but if he didn't…

Angel bit the bullet and called Rupert.

"Hello?" the familiar British accent greeted him.

"Rupert," Angel said, trying and failing to keep his nerves out of his voice. "I'm sorry, but I…"

"Stole the paper with Dietrich's telephone number? I was already aware of that. In fact, I was just about to call you myself when you…"

"Yeah. Like I said, I'm really sorry about that, I just…"

"Angel, please. Do let's stop interrupting each other." That seemed a bit hypocritical, considering that he'd just cut Angel off in order to say it, but okay. "It's I who should apologize to you." Huh? "I just got off the phone with the Council and no one there knows of anyone with the first name of Dietrich fitting the description you gave, which seems highly suspicious if he's actually a legitimate scholar in the field of the supernatural."

Yes! Angel felt utterly vindicated. Nevertheless, he was compelled to play devil's advocate. "Are you sure they were being completely honest?" There were any number of reasons the Council might lie, after all, especially under these circumstances.

"Yes, I am. You see, I wasn't strictly truthful with them. I led them to believe that it was Buffy who had encountered this fellow Dietrich."

Angel was almost overwhelmed by admiration for the man and he couldn't help but smile. Rupert wasn't nearly as stuffy and hidebound as he had previously believed. The seeds of deviousness were there and Angel had to appreciate that. "Nice work, Rupert."

"Do call me Giles. The other children do and it makes no sense…"

While Angel wasn't sure if he was warmed or insulted by the Watcher's words, he did feel the need to point out something and he interrupted him with: "I'm not one of the children."

"No, of course not." Rupert seemed nonplussed. "I just meant that…"

This was an awkward moment and Angel felt an odd tightening in his chest. He had the horrible feeling that what was happening was that they were becoming friends or something like it now and… Dammit, now he felt guilty about that hypothetical vision of Giles being disemboweled.

This was not the way things were supposed to be. Angel had come to this burg to help Buffy – only Buffy. Save the world, brood a little…it had been such a simple plan.

When had things gotten so out of hand? First he fell in…something, he wasn't sure what anymore, with Buffy, and that was bad enough, but then there was Willow – though absolutely and certainly only as a friend, lovely neck and…other things aside. And now all of a sudden he'd become friends with… Giles? What would be next – palling around with Xander Harris? Please _no_!

"Thanks…Giles," Angel said, because time had passed and he had to say something or Rup…_Giles_ would think he was rude or strange or unfriendly or something and no, he didn't want that.

Dammit. This was one more thing that was Willow's fault. Next thing you know he'd have cocktail parties and people coming over at all hours or at least an address book with more than two names in it. He was a _vampire_, for pity's sake. A vampire with a _soul_. Hanging out with friends? _Having_ friends in the first place? It was not supposed to come with the territory. He wanted to put that troublemaking little minx over his knee and…

Bad image. Suddenly Angel's trousers were awfully uncomfortable. Thank heavens the Watcher wasn't here to…watch.

"But getting back to the matter of this Dietrich character, I'm beginning to feel that you may have been right to view him with suspicion and that I did not take this as seriously as I should have."

Hallelujah for small favours. "I called the number," Angel admitted.

"What did he say?"

"All I got was his machine, but get this – he doesn't use his last name. What kind of professional only uses his first name?"

"I must admit that does nothing to add to his credibility."

"As of now, I'd say he has zero credibility. I mean, what do we know about him? We know he tried to pick Willow up in a bar. He claims to be a demon hunter, but the Watcher's Council has no idea who he is. And his answering machine message is 'Hello. This is Dietrich.' This guy is the opposite of credible, Giles, and he has no business being anywhere near Willow."

"Yes, well, I can hardly argue with you, though right now I confess to feeling rather helpless." Angel wanted to invite him to join the club. Where the hell was Dietrich, anyway? And since great minds thought alike, the next words out of Giles's mouth were, "I do wish we knew where he was staying or where he spends his time."

An idea suddenly occurred to Angel just as Giles spoke, however – an idea of where this guy might hang around. Where would some sleazy pick-up artist on the prowl for teenage girls most likely be found? The Bronze, that was where. Tonight, Angel would head right on over there and see if he could find Dietrich. They needed to have a nice…long…_chat_.

"Don't worry, Giles. I think I might know."

Tbc…


	9. Chapter 9

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Nine)

As of right now, Willow had officially changed her clothes fourteen times. She felt utterly ridiculous and skanky – like Cordelia Chase or something. Who worried this much about what they looked like?

The answer to that – at least at this moment – appeared to be Willow Rosenberg. Oh well - she finally seemed to have gotten it right, thank goodness.

She stood before the mirror in her parents' bedroom staring at her reflection: hair pulled up in what she thought wasn't a half-bad attempt at what Buffy's fashion magazines called a _chignon_, black silk blouse borrowed from her mom's closet, and a pair of blue jeans she'd considered too tight but which Buffy had forced her not to donate to Goodwill. If only she didn't feel like a little girl playing dress up. This so wasn't her.

Still, wasn't this what dating was all about – pretending to be stuff you weren't in the hopes that a guy would like the girl who wasn't actually you enough to ask not-you out again?

Of course, that only applied if this was a date, and it might not be. Because Dietrich had said that they were meeting to discuss Porthus, and that was more work-related – wasn't fighting evil sort of Willow's job? – than date-type stuff. So maybe it was just two people in the demon-fighting biz meeting to pool their resources.

Okay, but if this wasn't a date, then did that mean that Willow needed to change again?

A quick glance at her watch said she didn't actually have time. And anyway, it wasn't like Dietrich knew her well enough to know that she never, ever dressed like this. He would probably just think this was what she always wore to the Bronze. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurried back to her room to grab her purse.

Angel couldn't remember the last time he'd worried this much about his appearance.

Scratch that – yes he could, and it was before he had a soul. Ouch. But he had a good excuse tonight. He was determined to face down that worthless bum, Dietrich, and even with a soul he knew that making the right appearance with a guy like that – greasy pseudo-suavity oozing from every obnoxious pore – made all the difference.

The white t-shirt and black leather jacket just weren't going to cut it this time.

He rummaged through his closet looking for something elegant, threatening, and not over-the-top gothic. Sadly, there were very slim pickings. But at last he found what he sought: a black silk Armani shirt he'd treated himself to on a whim (and brooded about for weeks afterward). It was just the ticket – classic, tasteful, and expensive, but dark enough to give him a smooth aura of menace. Perfection itself.

A little product on his hair, the right pair of jeans, and the look was complete – casual and unstudied, but smooth and polished. He only wished he could see himself in the mirror, just to be sure.

Not that he was vain or anything, but frankly, no one appreciated the skill it took to achieve the proper appearance without being able to see your own reflection. Buffy never gave him enough credit for his hair – and Willow? Willow never even really looked at it. Not that he wanted her to compliment him or anything, because hey, friends didn't do that kind of thing much (did they?), but was an appreciative glance so much to ask for?

Get your mind back on business, boy-o.

It was well nigh 8 PM – time for Angel to hit the Bronze and see if he could scare up that lecherous creep. He added a knife to his ensemble (just in case things got out of hand), gave a quick feel to his hair to make sure it was all in place, and headed out the door. If he ran into Porthus, the silver slug would have to wait in line – Dietrich was going down first.

We who are about to die salute you.

Okay, so maybe Willow was being a little melodramatic, but this might or might not be her first ever actual date-type experience and she had every right to be terrified. All vampires could do was kill you, but this? This could be shame – even _public_ shame – worse than the talent show shame – and that was definitely a living death kind of thing, except not, because then she'd be a vampire and…could her thoughts please stop babbling at her?

She looked around the crowded dance floor and bar area, wondering if Dietrich was there yet. What if he wasn't? What if he didn't show up at all because he couldn't find the club or…because he thought she was a total loser and… Willow could only thank whatever gods actually worked the Sunnydale side of the street that Cordelia Chase was on vacation, because if she were here to witness Willow being stood up, it would be…

"Hello," came a smooth, accented voice from behind her.

Whipping around, she nearly tripped herself as she came face to face with Dietrich. "Hi," she choked out, although she thought it might have sounded more like "Hwygh." And oh no, her palms were sweating already.

"You look lovely." Before she could stop him, he took her hand and brought it to his lips.

He just kissed her hand! Oh God. This was sort of her first kiss – after all, there were lips involved, not hers, but still… And he didn't seem to notice the damp palm thing either. Bonus!

She just hoped she hadn't actually sighed. Oops!

What the hell?

It appeared that Dietrich - gigolo-attired, ridiculous Dietrich - was at the Bronze, all right. Unfortunately, so was Willow – with her hair up again…and where did she get that blouse? Was she dressed exactly like Angel? Pay attention to what's going on now, worry about similar sartorial tastes later. Because the oily roué had Willow right in his clutches. In fact, the jerk just kissed her hand. Angel had called it, but having his earlier fib made truth did nothing to wipe the scowl from his face. Just the opposite, in fact. He couldn't believe Willow had just allowed her hand to be kissed by a guy wearing Nino Cerruti. Nino Cerruti? Angel wouldn't be caught dead – well, _more_ dead – wearing that crap.

He went to the bar, securing a good vantage point and also something to lean on, a way to affect that all-important air of nonchalance in case he was spotted. But his unruffled demeanour was soon ruffled when a couple decided to start making out while standing in his way. Again – what the hell? There were dark corners and a perfectly serviceable alley out back for that sort of activity. He caught the overeager boy's eye and let his face flicker for just a second. It was enough. The panting pair rushed away for parts unknown.

However, just when he was about to settle back into his pretense of casual and keep his eye on Willow and her would-be paramour, a voice disturbed him – really disturbed him:

"Hey, Fang Boy. What brings you here? And when are you leaving?"

Great. Xander Harris. Just the person he least wanted to see.

But before Angel could come up with a cutting riposte, Xander's eyes fixed on precisely what Angel had been observing. "Who's that guy hanging all over Willow?"

"That," Angel answered, "is Dietrich."

"He looks like a creep."

Angel's thoughts exactly.

Wait a minute – were they moving? Dammit. There was no way to spy on them easily now.

Willow let Dietrich guide her to a table in a corner. It was kind of dark, but it was also a little quieter and more private, so maybe he really did want to talk about Porthus. Or maybe he was finally going to tell her his last name. It _was_ kind of weird that only his number had been on his card, though she hadn't told Giles or Angel about that fact.

Pulling a chair out for her, wow. He had nice manners, she'd give him that. But then he moved his chair and…gosh, wasn't he sitting a little close? Well, the music _was_ pretty loud; it would probably be much easier to talk this way.

"So…Porthus." Smooth, Willow. Nice job breaking the ice there.

Dietrich chuckled. "Business first, eh?" Okay, she felt like she'd missed something and that made her think this absolutely had to be a date or she wouldn't be so hopelessly at sea.

"Um…I guess so."

"You're right. We should get this Porthus matter out of the way so we can move on to more pleasant topics." He took her hand and was looking into her eyes in a way that Willow guessed was supposed to be flattering or enthralling or something but that actually made her very nervous. She was so, so lost with this dating stuff. Couldn't they stop at a gas station so she could ask for directions? Help!

She decided to just stick to Porthus and hope that was all they ended up talking about. "Yeah, well, from what we've been able to find out, it looks like Porthus is here to find a mate or something."

"Really?" Dietrich said. He was still gazing into her eyes. Yikes. "I have uncovered the same information. Did you learn anything about a specific candidate?"

He appeared expectant, as if he really figured she might know more than he did. That part of his attention was kind of cool. "Sort of. I mean, we do know that it's someone beautiful with supernatural power and we _are_ pretty sure we've figured out who that is, but we haven't actually been able to confirm it. Still, there's really no one else it could be, so …"

"And who is that?" he interrupted, looking at her with increased intensity. Was it normal on a first date to get a wiggins? She looked away, trying to get her bearings.

Bad idea. Because what she saw was a lot worse for her peace of mind than Dietrich's stare. Xander and Angel were glaring at her. Oh no. Could this night get any worse?

Oh God, it could. Because Angel was walking over to her table.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The way this guy was gazing at Willow, Angel could tell that Dietrich expected the evening to end horizontally.

Even Xander was picking up on it. "What's with the long, lingering glances? Where did this guy get his shtick? He can't believe this Pepe le Pew crap will work on Willow, can he?"

Angel decided not to ask who this Le Pew character was. He had no desire to shatter his fragile truce with Xander over something that couldn't possibly be worth knowing anyway. Besides, he was getting impatient. "I'm putting a stop to this."

"How?"

"Watch." And with that, Angel made a beeline straight for the table where Dietrich was making eyes at Willow.

"Hey," he said, trying hard to sound casual as he reached the pair. He put his hand on Willow's shoulder. Was he actually looking at her in a proprietary way? Oh well, if it would keep Dietrich's lubricious mitts off her, then it was alright.

"Hey," Willow replied, looking up at him with a mixture of anxiety and irritation.

"Nice shirt." Dietrich muttered so low that only a vampire could hear him. He was rather pointedly glancing between Angel and Willow. Smug, snide bastard. Okay, so Angel and Willow were dressed alike. At least it wasn't Nino Cerruti.

"What are you doing here?" Willow asked.

"He probably came to eat," Dietrich interjected. "Isn't that right, Angelus?"

Angel wasn't actually surprised that this loser knew who he was. After all, anyone with fists could have beaten that knowledge out of Willie, but what _did_ surprise and – no, not delight – gratify him, was that Willow came to his defense. "He's not like that." He could have kissed her for having the discretion to stop there and not reveal exactly why he wasn't like that. In fact…

Much to his own shock, he did just that. Putting his hand under Willow's upturned chin, he bent his head and touched his lips to hers.

What was going on? Angel was…kissing her? But he wasn't – not really. She knew he was only doing this to make Dietrich mad and it hurt. This was her first _real_ kiss – two pairs of lips and everything – and it was less real than when Dietrich kissed her hand. Because Angel was probably closing his eyes and thinking of Buffy the whole time.

But maybe not, because suddenly she realized he was pulling her up and she thought she heard him moan her name, though that didn't seem possible because she was pretty sure he hadn't stopped kissing her and there were arms wrapping around each other and...oh, now there were tongues and she copied what Angel was doing and this time she was the one who moaned, or maybe did because she was pretty sure _she_ hadn't stopped kissing _him_ and…shut up, brain. Thinking bad, kissing good.

Or it _was_ good. Because just when Willow thought she was really starting to get the hang of it, someone was pulling her right out of Angel's arms. Much to her surprise, it wasn't Dietrich who was doing the pulling – it was Xander.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Thanks a lot, Xander. Though he might not be thinking that sarcastically. What the hell was he doing indeed? Because this was _Willow_ - sweet, innocent,sexy Willow with the hands that – get back on track here. This should not have happened, even if it was amazing – _especially_ if it was amazing. Buffy, Buffy, think about Buffy…ahhh…wait a minute, Buffy didn't have red hair, did she? Oh no.

He needed to focus, because Xander was yelling, Willow was making vowel sounds, and Dietrich was…gone.

Where the heck was he? What kind of man let another man kiss his date and just walked away? Not that he was sorry the lowlife was gone, but still – he found himself offended on Willow's behalf. Good – more guilt. Because really, he'd been running low and needed a fresh batch.

"Xander," he growled, his voice low and dangerous enough that even someone of his limited intelligence knew enough to step back. "I need to talk to Willow."

"But…"

"I…it's okay, Xander," she stammered out. She was blushing and the redness of her throat was quite tempting and…Angel really needed to look at something else.

"It better be actual talking and none of this stuff I just interrupted. Although, I've got to hand it to you, buddy, at least you got rid of that Dieter or whatever his name is and…"

"Xander," Angel growled. Willow's eyes were tearing up and it was obvious that Xander had her convinced that kissing her had just been a diversionary tactic.

_But it wasn't, was it_, a voice inside whispered.

Angel took Willow's arm and, barely waiting for her to grab her purse, he dragged her out of the Bronze. They really did need to talk.

Tbc…


	10. Chapter 10

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Ten)

"What were you thinking?" Willow cried as soon as they were outside, not allowing herself to be distracted by her sudden observation that she and Angel were dressed almost identically.

If she'd thought that was the right question, she'd been badly mistaken. Angel was just standing there with a blank look on his face. She decided to try another tack.

"You kissed me!" Thank you, Willow, Queen of Obvious. Oh well, she wanted to know what the heck it had all been about and cutting to the chase might not be so bad – unless Xander was right about it having been a diversionary tactic to get rid of Dietrich. Oh God. It probably was.

"I did," Angel replied quietly, seemingly oblivious to the raging storm complete with gale force winds which was currently serving as Willow's emotional state.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Why?"

And now he was looking at her as if she were insane…or speaking gibberish…or both. "What do you mean?"

She stood there in shock and soon her hands found their way to her hips as she glared at him. What did he mean 'what do you mean?'

Oh no. Stalling did not look like it was working. And he'd thought 'what do you mean?' was a great question, guaranteed to throw Willow off-balance and buy him some time. Apparently all he'd bought himself was a very distracting display of the kind of spirit that had gotten him into this mess – the kind of spirit that brought colour to her cheeks and an alluring flash of temper to her eyes and…focus, Angel. No, not on her neck…or that tempting expanse of skin revealed by the open top button of that tasteful and well-chosen blouse or…just don't look at anything but her feet.

"You kissed me!" she exclaimed again, and it sounded uncomfortably like an accusation.

"Yes, I did." What did she want him to say? Did she want an apology? Had she hated it? Because he thought he remembered nicely wandering hands and some moaning and…not the things to be thinking about right now.

He thought she was going to ask why again – and he had this vision of a never-ending round of the same questions over and over until sunrise drove him indoors - but she surprised him. "What about Buffy?"

What about who? Oh Buffy…_Buffy_. Pile another load of guilt on top of an already abundant stockpile because Angel had managed to forget all about her for a moment until Willow mentioned her name. That was bad. Because he loved her…right? Right?

Oh hell.

Again Willow found herself faced with a stolid, silent Angel. It was exasperating. It wasn't like she'd asked him for the names of everyone in William Howard Taft's cabinet or something (though he sure seemed familiar with the first name of Taft's Secretary of State). All she wanted to know was why he kissed her when he had Buffy. Even though she was now convinced he'd done it to make Dietrich go away, it still didn't make any sense.

His reply finally came, however. "What _about_ Buffy?" And it made less sense than ever. For all that she kept asking herself what Angel meant, he might as well be speaking Urdu – a language she always kept meaning to learn, actually, except she kept getting sidetracked by demonic tongues…and French.

Unconsciously, she found herself speaking slowly and enunciating rather exaggeratedly as if she were responding to someone who wasn't very bright. "You're in love with her. So why did you kiss me?"

Despite being incredibly insulted by the condescending tone Willow had decided to adopt, Angel conceded that her questions had merit. They deserved answers, too. And he'd provide some…as soon as he could come up with any.

Unfortunately, it didn't look like he was going to be given the chance. "Hey. So, I take it you've managed to convince Willow of the evil of her Dietrich ways?" People were killed in this town all the time. Good people. Decent people. And yet somehow Xander Harris was allowed to live.

"We haven't had a chance to talk, Xander," Angel spat out through gritted teeth. "Why don't you give us a few minutes?"

Funny how sometimes your question could be answered by a person you didn't even ask. Xander showing up just now? His assumption about their conversation? It confirmed everything Willow knew but had been secretly hoping wasn't true. This _had_ all been a plot – a cruel, manipulative plot. Helpless, stupid Willow had to be rescued from some guy who was only out to use her to get to Buffy, so Angel strode in and made a mockery of her first kiss…and it was probably even Xander's idea or something.

She'd had enough. She wasn't going to stand here and just bathe in the humiliation. Seeing as how she had a cross, a stake, and holy water in her purse, she was more than capable of making it home to cry all by herself.

"I have a better idea. You guys can have that talk all by yourselves. I'm leaving." She drew herself up to as straight a posture as she could manage and did her very best to huff. Hopefully, she'd achieved a kind of imposing anger and not a sniveling, girly tantrum. Now let's see if she could keep her dignity while stomping away.

Of course she wasn't nearly imposing enough. Just as she managed to turn her back on Angel and Xander and had taken two steps towards the road leading home, she felt a hand grab her arm. It was Xander's. "Will, wait."

She spun around. If her expression was as angry as she hoped it was, Xander would let go immediately.

Yippee! It worked. Xander even drew back, looking as if she'd slapped him. Good. Because she sure _wanted_ to hit him and still thought it might be a fine idea. But she refrained, instead electing to explain the finer points of her enraged actions. She wanted to make sure she was fully understood by the both of them. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was used to wrath from her. "I'm storming off, okay? And that means nobody follows me," she glared at Angel, including him in her tirade, "because storming off is like that." And with that last bit of helpful clarification, she got right back to said storming.

For a first-timer, she thought she was doing this pretty well.

Angel couldn't believe it. The little hoyden was just marching off without so much as a…okay, yes, there had been a by-your-leave, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she was flouncing off in a temper instead of staying here to listen to his explanation (and no, there was nothing relevant in the fact that he hadn't actually come up with an explanation yet). How dare she!

He'd had enough of this female emancipation nonsense, he decided. He supposed it was alright for the _Slayer_, but for girls like Willow? Not on your life. She needed a serious talking-to, one involving boundaries and rules and consequences and maybe a darn good…no, not a spanking. Don't go there again, Angel. Please don't go there.

"We should follow her," Xander's voice cut through his thoughts like a mosquito at his ear. "Is it just me or is she way overreacting lately?" And suddenly Angel found himself wanting to defend Willow's ridiculous behaviour. Xander. The boy could make him defend the idea of being doused in holy water.

Sadly, Xander's first statement could not be argued with. No matter what Willow herself thought, Sunnydale was far too dangerous for her to be roaming around in the state she was in. All that emotion pouring off her in waves? That lovely white throat bared for every vampire in town to drool over? She might as well be wearing a sign saying "Future Childe". She was far too tempting…for demons that is, the ones without souls, not one like Angel, who didn't…oh, forget it. He was tired of arguing with himself. Just add another side of guilt to his order and bill him later.

He headed out in the direction Willow had taken, hoping Xander would get the hint his silence offered and not follow.

His hope – naturally, given what a disaster this night was turning into – was a vain one. Xander was soon at his heels like one of those hyperactive terriers. "I take it we're following Willow?" Angel still said nothing. Where else would they be going? It's not like he would let the boy follow him home. There were limits. "I think we ought to go see Giles afterwards. He needs to know that Willow's been meeting this creep on the sly." And again Angel hated himself as he was forced to concede, even if only to himself, that Xander had a good idea. After Willow was safely home, they'd double back to Giles's place and let him know what was up. Hopefully Xander would keep quiet about the kiss.

"By the way," the boy added, "is it my imagination or are you and Willow dressed exactly alike?" Angel groaned. This night just could not get any worse.

Much to her immense relief, Willow's temper had kept her tears in check until she was safely inside her own house. Of course, after that, she was grateful her parents were alarmist enough to have flood insurance. Willow hadn't cried this hard since the time in third grade when Cordelia had pointed out to everyone that the back of her skirt was tucked into her underwear. But who wouldn't? What Angel had done was humiliating and hurtful and…wrong.

It wasn't fair. All she'd wanted was for Xander, or at least a boy who actually liked her, to be her first kiss. Was that so much to ask? Apparently it was, because what did Willow get instead? A kiss from a vampire who was in love with her best friend who was only kissing her to piss off a demon hunter who was probably just using Willow, too, and…

Life sucked. She threw herself on her bed, buried her head in her long-suffering pillows, and burst into fresh sobs, accompanied by wailing.

A distasteful sensation distracted her. Just great. Her nose was running. Eww. She needed fresh pillowcases now.

Getting up and stifling her sobs through sheer force of will (okay, she was still whimpering and hiccupping, but she wasn't actually sobbing), she headed for the linen closet in the hall. Towels, washcloths, napkins…ah, there they were. Just as she retrieved two fresh, clean pillowcases – they didn't match her sheets, but she didn't care, no sirree – the phone rang.

Could no one leave a girl alone to indulge in a night of self-pity in peace? She toyed with not answering – it's not like she didn't know who it was – but it occurred to her that if she didn't, she could expect a panicked pounding on her door and the invasion of her tormenters, so she stomped angrily back to her room, picked up the phone and…

"Do you not understand the concept of storming off? I thought I told you to just leave me alone!"

"No, you didn't, but if you'd prefer…"

It wasn't Xander. Or Angel. Oh God. She was doomed to a life of constant humiliation.

"Dietrich, hi. I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

Once upon a time, Angel had lived in an alley; he had been filthy, ragged, degraded; he had eaten rats for sustenance. Those had been terrible days, days he was grateful to have left behind. Yet now, walking beside Xander Harris as the boy prattled away, Angel found himself nostalgic for that alley. The rats had been disgusting, but their squeaking was easily silenced – it was amazing how quiet a creature was when completely exsanguinated. Sadly, that was not a solution which was open to him in this case. Damn soul.

Fortunately, the distance between Willow's house and Giles's apartment wasn't great and Angel managed to remain focused on his own anger for the lion's share of the journey, thus saving Xander's life and, much more importantly, Angel's redemption.

Xander had been about to just barge in, but Angel forestalled him, electing to teach the boy the arcane art of knocking before entering.

Giles answered with surprising alacrity. Angel had half-expected the man to be in bed, or at least tucked away with some 12th century book of prophecies.

"Angel. Xander. It's remarkable that you're here. I've been trying to reach you for the past hour. Come in."

Angel edged in first – age before idiocy. He found himself surprised anew when he saw that Giles was not alone, a fact that made his haste to answer the door even more bizarre. Because his companion was that attractive computer teacher he vaguely remembered seeing in the library once or twice. He was about to wonder if Giles should speak of anything important in front of her when his nose alerted him to something strange…yet familiar…and not in a good way.

She was a Gypsy. Oh my. This could be awkward.

"This is Jenny Calendar." Now that was _not_ a Romany name. It seemed that she wasn't one to hang on to her heritage – which meant she couldn't be from the clan who had cursed him. Maybe Angel had a tiny bit of luck after all. "She's familiar with…" Giles continued, sensing Angel's confusion, though obviously not every reason for it. "That is to say she…"

"I'm a techno-pagan," the woman interrupted, "and I've been hearing some pretty disturbing things about a demon called Porthus. He's in town and my sources tell me that he's up to no good."

"We already knew that," Xander replied. "In fact, we're on the case. But thanks."

"Xander, do be quiet," Giles snapped. Angel's eyes shot wide. What was going on? "There's more to what she's learned."

"Yes, there is," she agreed. "I'm afraid you guys have been on the wrong track with the idea that he's after Buffy."

"You see," Giles interrupted. "Jenny has pointed out, and quite rightly, I'm afraid, that we made a grave error in judgment." He gazed at the teacher and Angel wanted to smirk. Someone had a crush. Good. Because it meant Giles wasn't mooning over Willow. "This creature is looking for a mate with innate, natural power – that is to say, power of her own. A Slayer…"

"Receives her power as a gift," Angel finished. "She's not born with it." All levity was gone and Angel's blood ran cold, though he wasn't sure why.

"That means the target is someone else entirely, and we need to figure out who that is." Giles was obvious, but right.

"Too bad that Dietrich guy is gone. We could probably use his help right about now." With those words, Xander glared at Angel.

What? As if Angel was the only one who'd wanted that badly-dressed trash to be taken out. Nice short memory there, Doughnut-boy.

"Dietrich?" Miss Calendar asked.

"He's a phony, self-styled demon hunter who was putting the moves on Willow. After tonight, I don't think we'll be seeing him again."

"He was a fake?"

Giles took over the answering duties this time. "Yes. No one on the Council has any knowledge of a man by the name Dietrich fitting his description."

"Well, tell _me_ about him. I can run it by some of my contacts and see if they know anything."

Angel was hesitant to seek aid from a Gypsy – it wasn't as if he was all that popular with those people – but Xander blundered right in and offered up the whole thing. "Tall, blond, slick, dresses like Richard Gere. Big on hand-kissing and Angel says he's got some kind of accent. I'm thinking he doesn't hunt many demons in that suit he was wearing."

Something was very wrong. With every word Xander spoke, Jenny Calendar's colour had faded rapidly and she seemed very troubled. "Are you sure he's human?" she asked.

"Yeah. I mean, Willow did the vamp test and he passed that, so…"

"Yes he did," Angel added.

"That doesn't mean he's human," the woman argued. "Rupert, didn't any of your sources tell you…"

"Tell us what?" Angel interrupted again as he felt a _frisson_ of fear travel the length of his spine.

"You do know that Porthus is here – in Sunnydale – at this very minute, right?" She sounded exasperated and Angel figured they were all wondering why.

Xander was the one who responded this time. "Yeah, but he's shiny and silver with red eyes. I don't think we'll miss him when he makes an appearance."

"That's his true face, Xander," Jenny sighed. "Did it never occur to any of you that vampires aren't the only ones with masks?" She glared rather pointedly at Angel.

He barely registered the look. The wheels in his head were turning, and down a very frightening road. "What disguise has he been known to appear in?"

"A tall blond man."

Tbc…


	11. Chapter 11

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Eleven)

Dietrich's chuckle was low and…kind of annoying. In the heat of her anger at Angel and Xander, Willow had almost forgotten that his charm had started to wear thin. Still, she supposed she'd rather be talking to him right now than Angel or Xander – at least Dietrich hadn't conspired to humiliate her and lay waste to one of her most cherished dreams (and no, not the one where she managed to convince the Miss America pageant to replace the swimsuit competition with science projects, but the other one – the one about her first kiss).

Dietrich spoke. "I'm sorry I left the Bronze so abruptly. I'm afraid my jealousy…well, I didn't wish to create a public scene."

Okay. That was sort of considerate in a way and it was even kind of flattering. He was implying that he was jealous enough to start something angry and loud over her. She found herself wishing he had – and then remembering that she didn't actually want him to be interested in her since she wasn't all that interested in him. Sure, he was good-looking in a kind of early David Bowie meets that guy from Blade Runner way, but Willow wasn't all that into blonds and anyway she was in love with…okay, maybe she'd gotten over that, but still, she liked dark hair – and NO, not dark hair like Angel's hair, but a totally different kind of dark hair that looked absolutely nothing like Angel's hair.

And she was _not_ going to think about that kiss either.

Dietrich was still talking and Willow struggled to focus enough to get back into the conversation, if it could be called that since she hadn't even contributed to it. "We never did get a chance to compare notes on Porthus."

"No, we didn't," Willow replied, grateful for a topic that was nicely impersonal. "We could talk now. I have my notes right here and…"

"I'm afraid I'm not comfortable talking about such a delicate matter over the phone. I realize that seems paranoid, but…"

"It's okay," Willow reassured him, even though she did, in fact, think he was being kind of melodramatic. "How about tomorrow? We could meet for coffee."

Jenny Calendar's face remained ashen as she tapped away on the laptop she'd obviously brought with her. It wasn't like Giles would own one. Unless he knew about those sites Willow had told Angel about…but no. He had Giles pegged as more the pornographic woodcut type, maybe French postcards if he was in a particularly saucy mood…and what the devil was Angel doing thinking about this sort of thing anyway?

It was Willow's fault. She was, after all, the one who'd told him about those degrading and never-to-be-visited-unless-you-know-he-a

ccidentally-stumbled-upon-them-as-he-tried-to-learn-about-the-internet sites. She was the one with the soft lips and the smooth skin and deliciously wandering hands and…

Focus, Angel.

He was helped along by Jenny sighing and turning away from her computer as she addressed the room. "I'm drawing a blank on this Dietrich. Whoever he is, he's no demon hunter. And I'm not finding any likely candidates for Porthus's mate among any of the local practitioners. None of my contacts have ever even heard of any of the people who call themselves witches here in Sunnydale, which pretty much rules them out as anyone with any serious magical power."

"Is anyone else thinking the obvious here? Willow had a date with a demon." Xander's flip words would have angered Angel had the boy's voice not been shaking with real concern. Concern that Angel shared. It had to be clear to all of them by now that Dietrich was Porthus. Worse yet, Angel was also becoming suspicious of something else.

All sorts of thoughts were now racing through his mind, but they were ridiculous, weren't they? Because as far as he knew, Willow had never so much as played with a Ouija Board and surely, this being the Hellmouth, there'd have been some sign by now if she was…

He asked a question, hoping like anything that one of the others would come up with a good answer, and not the dangerous and foreboding one forming in his own mind. "Why was Dietrich cozying up to Willow?"

Willow waited for a moment as Dietrich didn't answer right away. Okay, how hard was it to decide about meeting for coffee?

"I fear that tomorrow might be too late. You see, there are some other things I need to tell you about as well. Things about your…about Angelus."

Angel? Dietrich knew stuff about Angel? Okay, this added a real level of interest to the meeting. Because maybe the stuff he knew was stuff she knew already, but what if it wasn't? This could be urgent, though in exactly what way, Willow had no idea. Still, Dietrich was acting all Mission Impossible about it, so it _was_ probably really urgent…right? Oh gosh!

Somewhere in there she sort of forgot that she didn't give a darn about Angel and even when she remembered, she decided that it was still in the best interests of all of them to know things about him. She could think he was a big dead…undead…whatever…jerk and still want to find out all she could about him. Because hey – he was sort of Buffy's boyfriend. Even if he had kissed Willow…with tongue.

But there was still the matter of meeting Dietrich tonight. She didn't think asking him to go back to the Bronze was very tactful, and besides, for all she knew, Xander had decided to return. Then again, she didn't want to invite him to her house either. Sure, Angel had practically spent the night there (don't go there Willow; the memories will only hurt you), but it somehow felt really inappropriate to invite Dietrich into her home with her parents away. No one ever said she had to be consistent (well, okay, practically everyone expected her to be consistent and rebelling against that was part of what had gotten her into this whole tangled mess, but that was not the point at all). The point, if she could somehow re-board her train of thought was…just a second…she'd remember…where to meet Dietrich – that was it!

Dietrich seemed to actually have the answer to that himself. How lucky. "Could you meet me at Willie's in oh, the next half an hour?"

Everyone's eyes were on Angel and he felt extremely uncomfortable, especially since one pair of eyes belonged to a Gypsy. And no, he wasn't a bigot. It was just that, hey, being cursed could make a vampire a bit wary, that was all.

"That's an excellent question, Angel." Jenny's voice was soft, and he could tell she was worried. "What exactly happened at the Bronze tonight? You and Xander said that Dietrich left but you weren't exactly clear about why." The eyes grew piercing and steel entered her tone.

Oh great. He was going to have to tell the whole story. He shot a look over at Xander, who actually had the gall to hold up his hands in the age old gesture of 'hey, you're on your own.' Figures the little prick would weasel out on him like this. Next time the boy was in danger, Angel had half a mind to let him try to fight his own way out. It would serve him right.

Reminding himself that lives, maybe even Willow's, were at stake, Angel decided to just cut to the chase. "I kissed her."

"You did what?" Giles roared.

Giles could roar? Angel didn't think the man's voice ever rose above a genteel volume. Even when Buffy had died, Giles's voice hadn't risen to such emotional heights. Guess their putative friendship was doomed to die in its infancy.

Xander, naturally, hung back – _shrank_ back would be more accurate – leaving Angel to face the wrath of the not so reserved Watcher all by himself. And Giles wasn't the only one whose anger he was worried about either. Because Jenny Calendar was staring at him in a way that made him wonder if she was Kalderash after all. He really wished he'd studied up more on the whole concept of the evil eye; that knowledge might be pretty useful now.

"I kissed her, okay?" No, he wasn't defensive, not at all. "That creep had some pretty obvious intentions and I wanted him to see that Willow was off-limits and…I kissed her." Way to repeat yourself there, Angel. It was plain to see that two centuries and change of unlife had gifted him with a superfluity of suave.

"You say his intentions were obvious," Jenny said. "It didn't look like he was playing up to her for information?"

For a few seconds he wondered if she was slow-witted. He'd just said…oh no. He suddenly got her meaning and it did not bode well. "No. He looked absolutely serious. That could mean…"

Did everyone in the room feel as incredibly stupid as Angel did right now?

Willow, jacket on and purse stocked with the all-purpose Hellmouth survival kit, was now on her way to Willie's. She really wished Dietrich would have just told her what he had to say over the phone, but if recent experience had taught her anything, it was that men involved in the supernatural biz were all addicted to being cryptic and remote.

What she wouldn't give for a little girl power right about now. She positively ached for Buffy's biting wit and refusal to play the game. Sometimes Willow thought her friend's clarity was a special Slayer power – Buffy just refused to cloak demons and prophecies in the obscurity and mystery with which everyone else seemed duty-bound to shroud them. To her they were no more arcane or worthy of reverence than Principal Snyder and next year's class schedule.

Right now, Willow missed Buffy more than she ever had.

Which was creating a real conflict within Willow's overtaxed psyche, because hey, not an hour ago, she'd been locked in the arms of Buffy's boyfriend. Okay, maybe not locked, but wrapped – there had certainly been wrapping of arms – and don't forget the tongues. Tongues had definitely been involved – enthusiastically involved, like cheerleaders-at-the-championship-game-enthusiastically-involved.

Had it really been a sham on Angel's side? Because her memory – a normally reliable and unbiased to a fault instrument (it never even _tried_ to help her see love in Xander's eyes) – was currently showing an endless loop of soft brown eyes gazing at her complete with a soundtrack of her name being moaned and…

Why was she thinking like this? She should _want_ for it to have been a sham, right? Because Buffy was her very – best – friend, and very – best – friends did not kiss their very – best – friends' boyfriends, even if they were sort-of broken-up and all.

Gosh was she glad to have arrived at Willie's at last. She really needed a distraction. Meeting Dietrich, even at a place like this, was a lot safer than her thoughts tonight.

Everyone did in fact feel just as stupid as Angel did, if the slack jaws and wide eyes on display were any sort of indicant, so it took what felt like an eternity for anyone to speak. The ice was finally broken by Giles.

"Oh dear." It was perhaps the most grotesque understatement possible at this moment.

"I should have seen it," Jenny murmured. "How did I not see it? It all seems so clear to me now…there were signs…I should have seen them…" Over and over she repeated herself, her distress palpable enough that if Angel weren't so caught up in his own fear, he'd have felt compassion. Or maybe not. She'd glared at him with an awful lot of menace earlier.

But she was right about one thing, now that he looked back, he couldn't believe he'd never seen it before. Hell, it was part of what had drawn him to her…as a friend, of course, because…okay, as more than a friend. A lot more. A more he hated himself for even thinking of wanting the chance to explore with her if only…

"What do you mean 'signs'? Signs of what?" Xander asked, his interruption illustrating conclusively why he would someday have a job requiring a nametag and a hair net if Angel were any judge of human potential.

"I should have seen it as well," Giles added, ignoring Xander completely. "Looking back now, it's all so unmistakable. The way she was so immediately drawn to the fight…Moloch's fascination with her…it was all there. I just never opened my eyes."

"And again, I ask, signs of what?" Xander was almost yelling now.

"Power, Xander." Giles decided to clue him in. "Innate, occult power."

A short burst of laughter was Xander's first response, followed by, "You're trying to tell me my best friend is some sort of supernatural powerhouse? I'm sorry, but that just isn't Willow. I've known her forever and I think if she was some kind of magical being, I'd have noticed by now, okay?"

"I know it's difficult to accept, but…"

Angel was growing impatient. Time was ticking, people. Why was the _vampire_, the one who had all the time in the world, the only one to grasp that talking this to death was counterproductive and that the minutes starting now needed to be spent on action instead. "No, it's not difficult to accept. It's simple logic. Moloch, Porthus…these guys are not drawn to ordinary human girls. They both picked Willow. Ergo, Willow is not an ordinary human girl. Can we move on to doing something to protect her now?"

"Angel's right," Jenny said. Did she sound grudging? What the heck did she have against him anyway? Was there some sort of memo all the clans got with his name and past crimes in it or something? Eighty years and a curse later and some people just couldn't let go. "We need to get to Willow as soon as possible."

"Would you call her?" Giles asked. "That way you can warn her not to talk to Dietrich before the three of us can get there and explain things to her more thoroughly."

"Rupert," Jenny started to object but she caved under the rather pleading stare Giles fixed on her. Guess this crush thing was a two-way street. "Alright. I'll stay here and call her. You go to her house and make sure she understands what's going on."

Before the last words had left Jenny Calendar's mouth, Angel was out the door. Giles and Xander could take that pathetic car. Angel could get there a lot faster on foot. Sometimes it was great to be a vampire.

That nagging feeling in his gut couldn't possibly mean that they might already be too late. It was just the unpleasant effects of too much time in close quarters with Xander Harris…right?

Tbc…


	12. Chapter 12

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twelve)

Willow made her way rather cautiously into Willie's and was immediately cowed by all the noise and the milling throng of demons. She'd never been here at night – not even with Buffy – and it was…different. Yes, the Bronze had crowds and loud music, too, but there was no smoke, and there were no large purple creatures oozing slime standing next to the payphone there either. She walked a wide berth around him, mindful of the fact that she was still wearing her mother's blouse; she'd overheard enough clothing talk from Cordelia and her sheep to know that there was no chance of ever getting that slime out of silk.

She could feel eyes on her and noticed a vampire in game face staring at her neck. Eep! Just one more reason fashion and Willow were the twain that never should meet. She wanted desperately to take down the darn chignon, but she couldn't figure out how to deal with all those pins in a surreptitious way.

Oh gosh! There was Dietrich, beckoning her to a table. Phew. Not that she felt relieved or anything because – hello – friend of the Slayer with a stake and a cross and a vial of holy water here, but still…

Okay, maybe the vamp was making her just a tiny bit nervous.

Angel had run as fast, or perhaps faster, than his legs could carry him, so naturally he arrived at Willow's house well ahead of Giles and Xander. Not that a five year old _human_ couldn't have outrun that pathetic Citroën, but Angel figured _he_ could have outrun a Porsche at his rate of speed, so it was still an impressive feat. Of course, none of that would matter if…

He pounded on the door. He couldn't see any lights other than the porch light he was standing under. Had Willow gone to sleep? Keep pounding, Angel. Funny how his fist against wood seemed to stand in for the racing heart which would be beating wildly in his chest if he weren't a monster and…

Oh cut it out. This was no time for the usual roundelay of self-hatred and mental scourging. He needed to just start wearing a cilice or something, save himself all the time it took to replay the liturgy of self-abnegation. He was actually starting to think it was possible to brood too much.

Especially now.

Just when he was about to break down the door, Giles's sub-Model T automobile puttered effortfully into the driveway. It was about time. They could at least stand guard while he burst into Willow's house. Sure, no one in Sunnydale had ever cared about anything that happened in their town at night before, but there was always a first time, and it would be just Angel's luck to be arrested for burglary or something.

"Hey," Xander huffed, a bit out of breath, as he and Giles ran up to the door. "Why are you standing out here?"

"Hi," Willow said as she sat down right across from Dietrich. He was staring at her and it made her nervous. She wasn't used to people staring at her unless she'd spilled something on her sweater or Cordelia made some mean wisecrack about her clothes.

Or unless, like the vamp who was edging away nervously – Willow had no idea why – they were sizing her up as a future meal.

"I'm sorry about our misunderstanding," Dietrich offered.

"Huh?" Oh no. She said that out loud, didn't she? Great. Just great.

"I didn't realize you were already spoken for," he explained. "Had I known…" He didn't finish the sentence and, for no good reason, that struck Willow oddly. She mentally shook herself. Pretty soon she'd start reading dark, hidden meanings into the word 'hello.'

She was about to correct him, but she wasn't sure she should, so she didn't. It wasn't like she wanted him to be interested in her. Sure, she was flattered by his attention and all, but he was just passing through town and anyway, the 'mystery guy' thing was wearing on her nerves.

And yes, that did so include Angel.

Okay, maybe not.

Xander had a knack for being annoying. Pity it was his only skill. "I've knocked, but there's no answer. I was about to break down the door when you two showed up," Angel said through gritted teeth and an uncomfortably occluded jaw.

"That's a good thing because now we can avoid vandalism and save Willow from having to explain to her parents why she had to buy a new door by simply using the key." The supercilious smirk on Xander's face as he lifted up a flower pot and retrieved a key from underneath made Angel want to snap his neck. But there was no time for thoughts of carnage – at least not any carnage unrelated to Porthus, Dietrich, whatever the hell his name was – so Angel just ground his teeth and let Xander lead them all into the house.

Inside he realized what he _should_ have sensed out on the stoop – Willow wasn't there. Of course, the fact that her corpse wasn't waiting for them to find was a positive, but the fact that a _live_ Willow wasn't there almost canceled that out.

Once the other two had needlessly searched the house, the three of them gathered in the living room.

"Oh God. We're too late," Xander said as he sank down onto the sofa. His voice was trembling and Angel found himself softening towards the boy ever so slightly. He was reminded of the fact that, for all his faults - and they were too numerous to mention - he _was_ Willow's friend.

Of course, the reduction in animosity only lasted until the next words out of Xander's mouth. "This is all your fault, Fang Boy."

What?

Angel changed his mind. There was definitely more than enough time to think about killing Xander.

There was a drink sitting in front of her, something Willow should have noticed but hadn't until now. Maybe the myriad hairpins holding her ridiculous hairdo in place were cutting off the circulation to her brain. She took a tentative sip as she struggled to organize her thoughts. It was a Coke. Gosh. It was nice that Dietrich remembered her age and had ordered accordingly.

"There's something you need to know about your boyfriend," he said. Oh good. He was starting right at what…was absolutely _not_ what Willow was most interested in, but was at least business and that was just fine. And no, Willow was not leaning in to hear Dietrich better.

"I suppose he told you about his soul?"

Willow nodded even as she wondered how the heck Dietrich could have known about that.

"It's not that big a secret," Dietrich snorted. How could he tell what she was thinking? She took another sip of her soda as he continued. "Has he bothered to tell you that it's not secure?"

Again with the 'huh?', though this time Willow managed not to say it aloud. "What do you mean?" That sounded a lot less lame than 'huh.' Didn't it?

"There's a clause in the curse which was used – no surprise coming from the Kalderash. If Angelus…Angel," he corrected himself, "ever knows a moment of true happiness, _perfect_ happiness, that soul will disappear, leaving him a demon again. A pure demon, utterly evil; without a trace of humanity, guilt, or conscience."

Oh. That was…how come he'd never mentioned that? Because that seemed like a big deal and really something they all should have been told. Of course, given Angel's higher-than-normal level of angst and usual dour mood, maybe he figured that being happy was so far outside the realm of possibility that his soul, for all intents and purposes, _was_ permanent. What she said, however, was, "No, he never said anything."

Dietrich snorted again. His nostrils flared very unattractively when he did that, Willow decided. "I'm not terribly surprised. It would hardly accord with his plans to have you know."

"His plans?" she asked before taking another sip of her soda. "What plans would Angel have?"

Angel was ready to duke it out with Xander, but the ring of the phone interrupted them. He was about to ask whether they should answer it or not when Giles, of all people, picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

If that was Willow's parents, she was going to have a lot of questions to answer – like just why a British man was answering their phone.

It wasn't.

"No, Jenny, I'm afraid she's not here." Silence for a moment. "No signs of a struggle. Perhaps she…"

"He's lured her away," Angel interjected. He just figured that out, but he spoke coolly, as if he knew it all along. Let's see if that finally put Xander in his place; the moron was still far too smug about knowing where Willow kept a spare key.

Giles repeated Angel's statement to Jenny – not bothering to give credit where credit was due, naturally – and shortly afterward, he hung up the phone. "She agrees. This leaves us at quite a disadvantage. Had he kidnapped her here, we – or rather, you, Angel – might have been able to track where he went."

Thanks for finally acknowledging the superior abilities that have been coming in handy for months now. And by the way, how did you like that Codex? Not that Angel was bitter about his thankless role or anything. He was doing this for redemption, not recognition. His ego needed no stroking whatsoever, nosiree.

Well…maybe a little.

"Gee, it's nice to know what Angel _could_ have done, but since he can't, what are we going to do now?" When this was over, Angel was going to sew Xander's mouth shut.

Luckily, irritation wasn't interfering with inspiration. "Willie's."

"What?" Xander and Giles spoke as one. Was it his imagination or did Giles look vaguely dyspeptic now?

"It's where they met. It's safe ground for a demon. My guess is that he's tricked her into going back there, probably by saying he's got crucial information on Porthus."

"That seems the likeliest scenario," Giles agreed.

"Then we're Willie's bound," Xander said. Those were the first truly sensible words Angel had heard from him in a very long time.

"It's obvious," Dietrich said. "He's seeking to rid himself of his soul."

"What?" Why would Angel want to do that? The thought alone was making her light-headed. She took another drink from her soda, but it didn't help. She actually felt worse.

Dietrich continued. "Perfect happiness. It's not as if you can find such a thing with just anyone. No, a moment of true bliss, of pure, unadulterated ecstasy? That's something he could only find in the arms of someone extraordinary," Dietrich reached over to stroke her cheek, "someone like you." Had he suddenly grown an extra hand? Because it looked as if there were now _two_ poised at her face.

Something was very wrong. She felt faint and strange and sort of sick. Still, she had to ask her question. Her tongue felt heavy and thick as she spoke. "Why would he want to lose his soul?"

"To be a demon again. A _real_ demon, free from the sickening humiliation of being burdened with shame at what he truly is, free from the pathetic humanity with which that Gypsy curse has filled him."

Okay, was it just her or did Dietrich sound less like a demon _hunter_ and more like a demon right now? She stood up, deciding it was time to leave, but her legs gave way.

Dietrich caught her.

Just before she lost consciousness, two thoughts went through Willow's mind: Had he drugged her drink? And…had his eyes _always_ been red?

Angel had dashed out of Willow's house well ahead of Xander and Giles, and he was surprised to see Jenny Calendar arrive at Willie's at the same time he did. How did she know to come here?

"Angel," she greeted him as she joined him in the alley just outside the entrance. "Rupert called me and asked me to meet you guys here. Where are they?"

"Giles's Citroën," Angel said, confident that those two words explained everything.

They did. "We'd better not wait for them."

She was about to barge through the door when Angel grabbed her arm. Did she just shudder? Did every Gypsy in the world hate him? "Let me do the talking, okay?" he said, irritated by her unwarranted revulsion. "In case you haven't noticed, this is a demon bar and only one of us is a demon."

"I know." Her voice was low and full of pointlessly mysterious undercurrents and Angel badly wanted to roll his eyes in disdain. _He_ wasn't prone to that sort of adolescent melodrama, was he?

Oh god, he probably was. He couldn't help it, though. That tone of voice came with the brooding and the guilt as a matching set. Besides, on him it sounded better…more seductive…right?

Not that he was hoping that was the way _Willow_ saw it or anything.

In spite of her groundless and insulting antipathy, Jenny followed him obediently through the motley throng of demons and up to the bar. Much to his shock, Willie seemed eager to see them. "I been trying to reach you guys, but the only number I had was for the school library and nobody answered and…"

"Cut to the chase. We don't have time for this." Angel was terse and commanding now.

"That guy? The one you snatched that cute little redhead away from the other day? He carried her out of here about ten minutes ago."

Tbc…


	13. Chapter 13

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Thirteen)

The first thing Willow noticed when she came to was that she had an absolutely horrible headache. The second thing she noticed was that she was fully clothed. That second one was definitely something to be happy about, and she would have been if not for the _third_ thing she noticed: She was tied to some sort of table – completely immobilized, in fact.

This was so not good.

Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears that threatened to fall. How could she have been so stupid? She's the best friend of the _Slayer_, yet she's such a moron that she just goes ahead and gulps down some drink bought for her by some random demon hunter guy…in a _demon_ bar, no less. No wonder she'd wound up in this mess. Angel had been right all along. This was a job for super-powered people, not for computer geeks with delusions of grandeur. If she got out of this alive, she was changing her middle name back to Danielle. No more 'Danger' (or danger) for Willow Rosenberg.

"You're awake." Dietrich's voice broke through the myriad of prayers she was silently voicing to just about every god of every religion she'd ever heard of, including a few she was pretty sure had died out long before the invention of the wheel.

When she opened her eyes, however, it wasn't Dietrich's face she saw gazing down at her. "Augh!" She closed her eyes again. Red eyes? Check. Silver skin? Check. Oh god…Dietrich wasn't Dietrich at all. He was Porthus and he must have kidnapped her to try and lure Buffy, just as they'd feared.

Willow was pretty sure that when Sunnydale crowned its next Village Idiot, the name on the dunce cap was going to be Willow Danielle (formerly 'Danger') Rosenberg.

Willie's news made the pig's blood in Angel's veins run cold. "What do you mean he carried her out of here?" If only he hadn't been such an idiot. If only he hadn't been so stubbornly wedded to the idea that Porthus was looking for Buffy, if only…

Jenny didn't look as if she was any less shaken than Angel was. "Oh God. If only I'd figured this out sooner, if only I…"

"We don't have time for this," Angel snapped, uncomfortably aware that her bout of self-blame was a disturbing mirror image of his own, and that, while his was internal this time, he often indulged out loud. Was it as irritating from him as it was from her? No, it couldn't be. Again, it was all about delivery. Angel was smooth and polished and darkly mysterious – that had to make a huge difference.

Now was not the time, though, to be worrying about whether or not he was more pleasant company than Jenny Calendar (besides, he was absolutely certain that he was…well, _almost_ absolutely certain, anyway). No, now it was all about saving Willow from that shriveled silver creep. He should have known something was up the minute he saw that guy at the Bronze – only a demon as ugly as Porthus would think Nino Cerruti was fit to wear in public.

Thoughts of what Porthus might be doing to her right now flashed through his mind and he tamped them down. "You let him just carry her off?" Angel asked Willie, his voice redolent with the ghosts of men he'd tortured or roasted alive – well, not him exactly, but…oh never mind the buck-passing. Him, okay? Him, him, him.

"Hey, I tried to call you. Believe me, this guy was gonna get out of here with your girlfriend no matter what I did. Figured it was better if I lived to tell you about it."

Upon hearing the word 'girlfriend', Jenny fixed him with the coldest glare she'd turned on him yet. Once this was over, Angel was going to have serious talk with the woman, but for now… "Do you have any idea where he was taking her?"

Willow did her best to get her impending hysterics under control before opening her eyes again. "D-Dietrich?" she asked.

A shriveled and shiny silver hand reached out to stroke her cheek. She couldn't help flinching slightly. He was slightly less repulsive than Moloch, but that was like saying that Harmony was less of a heinous bitch than Cordelia. It still didn't make either one of them people she wanted to hang out with. "You may call me that if you like, but my name is…"

"Porthus, yeah. I kinda figured that out, actually."

He chuckled. It was surreal hearing Dietrich's voice come out of that twisted little mouth. And then there were those red, glowing eyes. Yikes.

Of course, the sort of consolation – she guessed – was that Porthus…Dietrich…whatever his name was wasn't actually interested in _her_ at all. Hopefully, he'd already contacted Giles who would get Buffy who would then come in and kick this guy's silver ass. It would serve him right.

Of course, what she heard next threw her into a state of total confusion.

"You'll make such a lovely demon," Porthus crooned.

"W-w-what?" He stroked her face again, but this time, she was numb from shock and didn't recoil. What the heck did he mean? Did he think _she_ was the Slayer? Oh no.

This was very, very bad.

Angel did his best not to reach across the bar and throttle Willie. Willow could have suffered who knows what at the hands of Porthus and all this weasel could do was hem and haw. Still, a dead Willie would be no help at all, so instead, he repeated his question. "Do you know where he took her?" He allowed his true face to emerge for a moment. Consider it a visual aid...and a promise of torture and slow death should Willie's hesitation mean that they were too late to save Willow.

"I dunno, I…"

"Please, Willie. Her life is at stake," Jenny pleaded. Oh great. Good cop, bad cop. Like that wasn't the most clichéd routine of all time.

Of course, maybe it was such a cliché because it _worked_. "I…uh…I think I mighta heard him talkin' to some guy about this abandoned church near here. Somethin' about it bein' good for some ritual or somethin'."

He completely ignored Jenny's smug expression. What did it matter whose tactics had worked? Because this was great news. Angel knew exactly the place Willie was talking about. Being a vampire, and as such someone with a vested interest in keeping abreast of the location of large crosses, had some real advantages.

Hold on, Willow. Angel to the rescue!

"I'm…I'm not the Slayer," Willow choked out through a surprisingly solid lump of fear in her throat. Another science fair idea came to mind, but she didn't bother with it. Chances were less than good that she'd live to participate anyway. "Honest, I'm not."

Dietrich looked at her as if she had sprouted an extra head. It might have occurred to Willow that he had a lot of nerve, given his own appearance, but she was too busy being terrified to notice. "I didn't think you were," he said, after a moment.

Huh? But then… "Why are you…why am I…?"

He smiled down at her…at least she guessed it was a smile, his mouth wasn't so easy to read. "You don't know, do you? You have no idea."

Okay, the cryptic thing? It was way past irritating now and straight into infuriating. Unless it was Angel doing the cryptic thing. In fact, right now, she'd be thrilled to have him here…at his most cryptic and broody and bossy and… Focus, Willow. Because it was really a bad time to moon over the guy who gave you your first kiss in a futile attempt to save you from the fate you stupidly blundered into anyway.

"What do you mean?" she asked, glad that a few seconds musing had been enough time to get her annoyance under control. Let's not piss off the guy who has you immobilized.

"Power. All that power. The way it swirls within you, just waiting to be unleashed."

Again - _huh_? Power? Her? Since when? Sure, she'd looked up some of the sites she'd kind of accidentally found out that Jenny Calendar visited while she was looking for something completely different on the school's computer system (and it was _so_ an accident), but she'd been too scared to try any of the spells. Oh how she wished she'd been too scared to do so many other things – like visit Willie's. "I…I think you made a mistake," she said hesitantly, eager not to offend but even more eager to talk him into letting her go. Especially since she could see him mixing up a really creepy looking potion on a table right next to the one to which she was currently tied.

"No, my sweet," he said with a grin that displayed a row of black, uneven teeth, "I'm not mistaken. You're a well of untapped power. All the better really. The greater the reservoir from which to draw, the more likely the spell is to succeed."

The spell?

He seemed to know her question even though she was pretty sure she hadn't asked it aloud. "The spell to make you my mate, to make you one of my kind."

"Oh, _that_ spell," she said, torn between shock and hysteria even as she tried to keep her voice calm and cheerful. "Don't you think that maybe we ought to date first? See if we're compatible? I mean, hey, for all you know, I'm not really the eternal mate type. I can't even cook. By the way, are you Jewish? Because my parents…"

Dietrich's laughter interrupted her. It looked like logic was not going to work.

This was very, very, _very_ bad.

Angel had wanted to take the tunnels; Jenny had wanted to drive. So they split the difference, which was how Angel came to be speeding along the streets of Sunnydale behind the wheel of Jenny Calendar's car.

"Angel, that was a red light you just ran," Jenny yelled as they narrowly missed being broadsided by a pickup.

"Your point?" Angel snapped. "We don't have time for stupid traffic rules. In case you've forgotten, Willow's at the mercy of a soulless demon right now."

That shut her up. Her expression turned thoughtful and almost soft. "You really care about her, don't you?"

Oh great. Just what he needed to think about right now. This would be so much easier if Buffy was sitting next to him instead in one of her skimpy tank-tops and belt-like miniskirts. He'd have a much easier time knowing his priorities.

Of course, he hadn't seen Willow's throat back when Buffy had been the one by his side, hadn't tasted Willow's lips, or felt her hands on…Focus, Angel. Now was not the time to think of breathy little moans or the curve of her… "Yes, I care about her. She's my friend."

"It's more than that." She paused and Angel was about to argue, but then she said, "When this is over, we need to talk. I…"

Suddenly, Angel brought the car to a screeching halt. The church! They were here. "Look, we don't have time for this. You can wait out here or you can come in and try to stay out of the way. It's up to you. Right now, all I give a damn about is saving Willow. Your issues don't mean a thing to me."

With that, he sprinted towards the door of the church. He could hear the sound of Jenny's heels clicking on the asphalt behind him as she struggled to catch up.

Why did women always wear ridiculous shoes when they knew they'd have to run? Sheesh. Well, he wasn't waiting, so she could take care of herself.

With that, he burst into the church, ran inside and…

There was Willow, strapped to a table, and that scrawny, dried-up, silver scumbag was chanting as he held up a glass of…something.

"Stop!" Angel cried.

Okay, it wasn't eloquent or anything, but it worked. Porthus stopped chanting and hissed something Angel was pretty sure was obscene even if it was in a language he'd never heard before.

Jenny's voice rang out from behind him as he slowly approached the site of what he supposed was a ritual. "Willow, are you okay?"

"Kind of," she said. "I mean, I guess so." She was something else, even when she was frightened. Plucky and brave and…adorable. Things had officially and undeniably become impossibly complicated. "Thanks for finding me." She had twisted her head in what looked like a very painful way to look straight at Angel.

Porthus seemed to find her distracting as well. It was a good thing, too, because Angel pulled himself together and made a mad dash towards the onetime Eurotrash roué, tackling him and…

With a crash, the glass he was holding fell to the stone floor, shattering as its contents spilled everywhere. "Angelussss," he hissed furiously, his eyes glowing madly. Oh well, it was too late. Jenny was already working the knots that bound Willow to the table.

"Spare me the 'curses, foiled again' routine," Angel said as he got to his feet and dusted himself off before grabbing Porthus by what he assumed was the scruff of his neck and yanking him up as well. "It's been done to death. Which reminds me…"

He pulled a knife out from the sheath on his belt and was about to try beheading the nasty, little creep, when Porthus spoke, stopping him cold. "I told her, you know. Told her what you wanted from her…how you wanted to use her to become a demon again, to rid yourself of that foul humanity."

What? What was he talking about?

Unfortunately, Angel's confusion was just enough to give Porthus a chance to break away and…

"I may not have her, but you won't either. And you'll never be a demon again." The next words he spoke were foreign to Angel, but someone recognized them.

"No!" Jenny screamed. "No!"

At that moment a pain that seemed almost familiar ripped through Angel.

This was it. He was never, ever getting anywhere near any Gypsy ever again.

Tbc…


	14. Chapter 14

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Fourteen)

Everything was happening all at once and Willow couldn't make sense of any of it. It was like one of those nightmares she had where they gave all the final exams at the same time and she stood paralyzed in the hallway unable to tell which classroom she should go to first. Yeah, it was _just_ like that.

Ms. Calendar had been untying her, but now she was shrieking at Dietrich…scratch that…Porthus, who must have done some kind of spell because Angel just collapsed to the floor and…oh look! Giles and Xander were here.

Willow used her one free hand to work frantically at the remaining knots; no one seemed to care about Angel, who wasn't moving. Oh God! Was he okay? Why didn't he get up?

At that moment, Porthus made a break for it.

"Stop!" Giles yelled – rather more futilely than when Angel had yelled the same thing, Willow couldn't help but notice. Keep working those knots, she chided herself. Because Angel was still just lying there – Ooh! Her other hand was free now – Ms. Calendar didn't seem to be too useful and Giles just tackled Porthus – the resulting fight wasn't very pretty, especially when Xander became involved. Ouch – that looked painful.

Was it just her, or did this kind of thing seem so much easier and less chaotic when Buffy was here?

The last of the knots finally gave way and Willow leapt off the table. "Angel!" She rushed to his side, kneeling down and checking his pulse. She couldn't feel one. Panic welled up inside of her. The first boy…well man…well _vampire_ who'd ever…Oh. She suddenly felt very relieved – and very stupid. Of course Angel had no pulse. He wasn't alive, not even when he was walking and talking and…kissing. She'd known that already, right? Yes, she had.

Okay, it was kind of creepy to realize that her first kiss had been with a dead guy.

Remembering that Xander had almost had s-e-x with a giant insect put things in perspective, however, and she focused on trying to revive Angel. "Angel? Are you okay?" She lifted his head and stroked his cheek before turning an accusing eye on her computer teacher. The jumble that her mind had been was beginning to unjumble and she suddenly realized that Jenny Calendar had seemed to know what Porthus was saying and who it was directed at and that meant that she probably knew stuff that the rest of them _should_ have known and…

Memories of what Dietrich – Porthus – had told her about right before she'd been drugged into a stupor came rushing back. Had that silver meanie done something to Angel's soul?

The searing pain which had so recently wracked Angel's body and mind had, blessedly, receded, and what was left in its wake was odd…with a dash of pleasant – which consisted of a soft hand caressing his cheek and a tender voice asking if he was okay. A vampire could get used to this. He'd worry about the 'odd' later. The present was…again…pleasant.

He opened his eyes and saw Willow gazing down at him. She was safe – untied and safe. He was glad of that (and no, he felt absolutely no resentment that he hadn't been the one to free her from bondage…bondage…don't go there – this was not the time or the place). But her rescue could come undone at any moment if he didn't get up and join the fight.

Regretfully and as gently as possible, he pushed Willow away and rose to his feet.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, looking almost fearful. What was she afraid of? Him? That was a fine way to treat the savior who rushed to your rescue and… Better get his priorities straight. Extinction now, Willow later.

"I'm fine," he said, perhaps more tersely than she deserved, but he was irritated by her sudden reserve, and no he was not going to think about why that was. He was going to finish what lesser men had started.

With that, he retrieved his dagger from the floor and rushed to where Porthus was wiping that same surface with Xander Harris. Giles was already a casualty, lying in a crumpled heap off to the side. Guess it wasn't a fight if the man stayed conscious, Angel thought as he remembered concussions past. Luckily, Jenny was tending to him, so Angel decided to save any concern about the long term effects Giles might suffer from so much head trauma for later. Right now, he had a Porthus to destroy.

Grabbing the scrawny but surprisingly strong creature from his position atop Xander, he whirled him around. "Guess your magic's not as powerful as you thought, huh? Because I'm still here." And with a dramatic flourish, he plunged the dagger into Porthus's chest.

That'd teach the Nino Cerruti-wearing bastard who the _real_ killer was.

So why wasn't Porthus dying?

Oh shit. This could be – scratch that, this _was_ – a very big problem.

Willow had been about to breathe a big ol' sigh of relief after watching Angel stab Porthus, but she stopped on the inhale. What was going on? Wasn't he supposed to be a big puddle of extinct-demon-goo right about now? What was going on? And had she just thought that twice? Oh no.

Porthus just smiled. It wasn't a good look on him. If he had any friends, one of them really ought to have steered him towards a dentist…or at least a toothbrush. "You can't kill me. I'm a true immortal and a true demon…unlike you." He chuckled in a way that reminded Willow disturbingly of The Hooded Claw. Should she yell 'hay-ulp' or something? Probably not. Penelope Pitstop was blonde…like Buffy.

Who never needed to yell for help and would probably think of some super cool way to kill Porthus except that she wasn't here and had never even heard of Porthus and…

"Oh yeah? Let's just test that, shall we?" Oh no. Xander, please don't. Just because Willow was mad at him and had barred him from her home, that didn't mean she wanted him to die.

There was nothing she could do, though, because Xander yanked Porthus away from Angel, reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out…

No! Nooo!

Angel had been about to come up with a Plan B – a truly inspired and elegantly fatal Plan B – a Plan B for the ages – when he was stopped short by the greatest display of stupidity in the history of mankind. What was Xander thinking? Okay, stupid question, because Xander didn't have the capacity for thought, but still…What the hell was Xander thinking?

Porthus was now face-to-face with the boy and Angel could almost see him shake with mirth at Xander's challenge. "What can you do, pathetic mortal?" Angel hated to take the creep's side on anything, but his question had a lot of merit. Frankly, he couldn't see any answer to it. But one would be welcome if it stopped that sickening chuckle. Porthus was one irritating demon, the kind of demon who usually brought out the homicidal in…

Buffy. Who wasn't here. Who he should be missing sorely right now. Who he wasn't missing at all. Of course, he stopped worrying about that when Porthus moved and he got a look at what was in Xander's hand.

"Xander," he cried out, trying to warn the boy. Sure, he hated the moron and had fantasized about him meeting his demise, but that was fantasy – not like the fantasy he had _not_ actually had about being locked in the book cage at the library with Willow overnight, but…focus Angel. Because Xander obviously had no idea that the thing in his hand wasn't a weapon, but actually a…

Half-eaten chocolate bar.

Just as Xander was thrusting his hand towards the demon, though, he got a look at what was actually in it. The look of horror and regret on his face would have been hilarious under other circumstances. Not now. Still, the boy followed through, and Angel had to (sort of) admire that. It spurred him to render some aid.

He grabbed for the demon, hoping he wasn't too late.

Willow covered her eyes, certain that her best friend, the second-to-last of the Three Musketeers, was about to be done in by the mistaken wielding of a candy bar bearing that very name (the colours of the candy wrapper were unmistakable) – too bad she'd never be able to use this to illustrate what irony was to Xander. Could Angel save him, _would_ Angel save him? Sure, they'd seemed to bond over trying to ruin her life, but they'd come here separately and Angel had practically laughed at Xander, who was now going to die before Willow could forgive him and…

Terrible, ear-splitting screams rang out and Willow began to weep. She was now the very last of the Three Musketeers. But just as she was apologizing to the ghost of Jesse for not doing a better job of protecting their friend, she realized that no one else – not Giles, not Jenny Calendar, was crying out. And those screams had sounded nothing like Xander's. Cautiously, one finger at a time, she uncovered her eyes.

There, on the floor a few yards away was…

A puddle of steaming, silver goo.

Huh? How had that happened? Had Angel…?

One look at the dumbfounded expression on Angel's face told her no. Xander's arm was still outstretched, still clutching a last hunk of candy. "What…?" he said, obviously as shocked as everyone else by what had just transpired.

Willow stared again as the steam over the goo slowly dissipated and she watched with a complete lack of reverence or grief as the last survivor of a species dissolved into nothingness. This wasn't anything like the death of the last Passenger Pigeon. It was more like the disappearance of the last cheerleader – a consummation devoutly to be wished.

"You killed him," Jenny Calendar breathed, in a tone not unlike that of the Winkie guard after Dorothy killed the Wicked Witch.

"Yes, excellent." Giles sounded super groggy and Willow wasn't sure he had any idea what had just happened.

The funny thing was…none of them had any better idea of just what had happened than Giles did.

"He's dead?" Xander said, staring at the place where the goo had been. "But how…?"

Angel groaned as he stared at the last traces of Dietrich/Porthus/whatever the hell he was evaporating on the floor. This couldn't have happened the way it did, could it? His faculties had to have been affected by that spell. Because there was no way in hell that Xander Harris, the most useless sidekick ever, had just killed a seemingly invincible demon – a demon who had cowed generations of demon hunters, Watchers, and even other demons – with…a chocolate bar?

A soft hissing sound as Porthus became nothingness was all that broke the stillness. Angel distracted himself by looking around for a cross; that had to be a less troubling vision than what had just transpired. Not that he wasn't happy Porthus was dead…and no, he wasn't upset at being upstaged (okay, maybe just a little). Strangely, this being a church, he didn't see a single cross. Guess there was a reason this was a desirable location for a demon to do a ritual.

"Does anyone have a theory about why Porthus went poof?" Willow asked, turning everyone's attention to Giles. Loath as he was to admit it, even Angel wanted to know the answer to this one, and who else but Giles would have a theory about this bizarre serendipity.

After a moment, and while leaning rather unnecessarily on Jenny Calendar – what a ploy, Giles was completely conscious now – the man did not disappoint. "Well…I…with what I was able to observe…and admittedly that _was_ rather limited…and lacking any hard data about Porthus's biological makeup…"

"Is there any way we could get the Cliff Notes?" Xander asked. "Because I'm the big hero tonight and I'd really like to know how I did it for when I brag about this over the next, oh, fifty years or so."

Angel ground his teeth in irritation. Next time, he really thought it would behoove Fate to allow _him_ to save the day. Xander was a very sore winner.

"Well," Giles hemmed and hawed a bit before getting back to the theory, "I should say it's…love."

Huh?

No one said it aloud, but everyone was thinking it, and somehow Giles knew. "Chocolate, as we're all aware, is chemically identical to love."

"Oh yeah. I knew that," Xander responded, proving conclusively that he had not known at all until just this moment.

Giles was obviously sufficiently well-inclined towards the boy to continue without comment. "Porthus, being a creature so evil that he could use the power possessed by another to turn that person into a demon against their will, might well be said to be entirely incapable of such a pure and selfless emotion as love and therefore, when it is forced into him, even in a purely chemical form, such as chocolate, he is…"

"Toast," Willow said cheerily.

"Yes, quite. Of course this is only a theory, but…"

"It works for me," Xander said. "It's my story and I'm sticking to it."

Angel fought the urge to groan. Harris would stick to that story all right…and tell it…over and over and over and over.

One person, however, seemed to have already moved on.

"Um, not to rain on anybody's parade or anything," Willow said apologetically, "But shouldn't we also try to figure out what was up with that spell Porthus did on Angel?"

Tbc…


	15. Chapter 15

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Fifteen)

"There was a spell?" Xander asked and Willow sighed. Why did he _think_ Angel had been unconscious when he and Giles arrived? She didn't feel guilty about her disdain, either, because she was still angry at him despite the fact that he'd just slain...hey! He had so been wrong about Dietrich using her to get to Buffy. She was never going to let him forget that.

"Yeah. Two spells, even. Well, one, actually, since Angel managed to keep him from casting the one that would have made me a Porthus-ette – by the way, thanks for that, Angel." She walked over and hugged her saviour. She liked her eyes green, thank you very much, and was glad they were going to stay that way. "But…what was I…?" She'd lost her train of thought again and raced to catch up before it pulled out of the station. "Oh! The spell! The one Porthus did on you," she was staring at Angel now, remembering how worried she'd been about… "Your soul! Is it okay? Do you feel the same?"

"Why would you think the spell had something to do with Angel's soul?" Giles asked. He had that 'imminent apocalypse' look, the one that he also had whenever Buffy went off half-cocked. Okay, it was pretty much his normal look, but right now it seemed more dire, probably because Buffy had been gone for months and the look had been semi-retired.

"Because he told me something tonight. Right before I passed out, I mean." She cringed at the memory of how stupid she'd been…and then at the chorus of voices.

"What?" It was in Dolby Surround, but Xander's voice hit the highest pitch.

"I…ummm…Dietrich, I mean Porthus" – the name thing was still really confusing – "he…ummm…he kind of drugged my drink. But that's not the important part, especially since you guys rescued me and he's dead now and all. Before I passed out" – and this time Willow hit them with her Resolve Face to prevent further interruption – "he told me something weird about Angel. He said Angel could lose his soul if he ever finds true happiness. And he thought Angel was trying to lose his soul with me."

What? His soul wasn't secure? It was all Angel could do to stay standing. Of course, that true happiness thing wasn't really likely. Even he had to acknowledge that he wasn't the cheeriest vampire around. Not cheery at all, really.

Okay, he brooded…all the time…constantly…even when he was asleep. There. He admitted it.

Except…

He felt different now. Oh, sure, he was a bit unnerved. Recent unconsciousness, a surfeit of Xander Harris – these things could definitely bring down a guy's mood – but something was missing and he didn't think it was his soul. In fact, he realized with a quick glance at the smooth, unmarked skin of Xander's neck, he knew it wasn't. There was no way his demon would have let that boy live

And what was that about him trying to lose his soul with Willow? Not that she couldn't make a man – or a vampire, for that matter – very happy, but he didn't…okay, yes, he did think about her that way, and quite often in the past couple of days, but still…

Sooner or later, the cacophony around him had been bound to become a din fit to drown out his thoughts and it had reached that point right now. Guess he'd better try to catch up with what had been said during his mental absence.

"…I can't fathom what they were about. Why on Earth would they leave a loophole like that? Did they _want_ to see Angelus unleashed on the world again? No doubt he'd be worse than ever after years of being caged up, so to speak. I simply don't…"

Something about the way Giles was talking stuck in Angel's craw. Maybe it was the way he was discussing him as if he weren't there at all. Okay, he'd been lost in thought, but he'd still been _here_. It made him just testy enough to interrupt the man and blurt out: "Why don't we ask our resident Gypsy if she knows anything?"

Resident who? What was Angel talking about? Willow looked around in confusion, hoping somebody else had a clue. But when she did, she was the one who figured it out.

Jenny Calendar looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Oh.

Still, while she could kind of understand Angel's Gypsy issues, why did he assume that Ms. Calendar knew anything about his curse? And why was she acting as if some dark secret had been revealed? What was so terrible about being a Gypsy? Willow actually felt a sort of historical bond with her now, seeing as how probably both of them had relatives who'd perished in the Holocaust and everything. So she was about to come to her mentor's defense when…

Wait a minute. Maybe Angel was onto something after all. Ms. Calendar had screamed "No" when Porthus had been casting that spell. And it had sounded like a 'no' with some knowledge behind it. _Did_ she know what the spell was? And if it had anything to do with Angel's soul?

As a consequence of her new line of thinking, when Willow opened her mouth, instead of launching into a rant about bigotry and stereotypes, she found herself looking straight at her favorite teacher and asking, "_Do_ you know what the spell was?"

Giles and Xander were making noises that Angel supposed were words, but frankly, he could care less. Was it wrong of him to take pleasure in the caught, helpless look on Jenny's face? Tough. It was his turn to glory in someone else's discomfort. Thank you, Willow.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the most mature attitude, but sooner or later he was going to start brooding and hating himself again and he wanted to enjoy these moments where he felt inexplicably lighter to the fullest.

Nevertheless, even he had to admit that what was _really_ important was figuring out what the heck Porthus had done to him.

"Look. I'm sorry if I revealed something you'd rather have kept private." Angel deliberately gentled his tone and manner, sighing inwardly at the end of his fun. The things a vampire was willing to do to find out how he'd been cursed _this_ time…"I'm pretty unnerved by all of this and I guess I spoke without thinking." He broke out the soft brown eyes – they always worked on Buffy – and hoped for the best.

Score! They worked. Well, he amended with a glance out of the corner of his eyes at the still hard-faced Xander Harris, they worked on everyone who _mattered_.

"It's okay, Angel," Jenny said, as she drew a deep breath, "I think it's about time that everyone knew the truth."

Gosh. Even Xander had shut up. Ms. Calendar had been keeping secrets. And it seemed like they weren't just about her ethnicity. This just seemed so unlike her. And really, she was such a nice person. How bad could those secrets be?

"My real name isn't Jenny Calendar. It's Janna Kalderash."

Oh. Maybe they _could_ be that bad. Because wasn't Kalderash the name of…

"You're a member of the clan that cursed me." Angel looked kind of…well…_mad_. Which Willow sort of guessed he had a right to be, even though, obviously, Ms. Calendar…or Kalderash…or…

Was Willow the only person in Sunnydale who had started life with one name and stuck with it? Because right now her head was spinning. First it was Dietrich being Porthus and now… Did Giles maybe have some aspirin?

"Yes." For a moment Willow thought maybe Ms…Kalderash had read her mind, but then she realized the woman was talking to Angel. Phew. Because things were already confusing without adding creepy to the mix…which, actually, it already had been when handsome Dietrich turned out to be shriveled and gross and…pay attention, Willow. Important now stuff now – worry about the Dietrich…Porthus…whatever stuff later.

"Why did you feel the need to keep that from us?" Giles said 'us' but Willow realized he'd meant 'him'. It didn't take much to figure out that he kind of had a crush on Ms…Whatever-her-name-was.

"It wasn't up to me," Janna Kalderash – Willow was practicing saying the name to herself over and over – said as she walked back over to Giles and took his hand. "So many times I wanted to tell you, but my family…"

"Why does your family even care what you do?" Willow asked. Admittedly, her parents were more laissez-faire than most, but she figured that by the time you were a grown-up, all parents were…weren't they?

"Because they sent me here. They sent me here to watch Angel. To make sure he was still suffering. To make sure he would always suffer. Of course now…"

"Now what?" Willow asked nervously. The question was on everyone's lips but she beat them to it.

"I failed. At least that's what my family will say."

Okay, was being cryptic some new disease? Because it seemed like _everyone_ was starting to talk in riddles. Even Angel looked exasperated and he practically _invented_ the whole 'talking without actually saying anything' thing.

Fortunately, the weight of a room full of annoyed stares seemed to be a cure. Without further prompting, Ms. Kalderash made herself clear…sort of. "You can be as happy as you want to be now, Angel. There's nothing standing in your way."

Huh?

Huh? Angel's head was spinning. He'd only just learned that his soul _wasn't_ permanent and now Jenny…Janna…whoever she was seemed to be telling him that it _was_ permanent after all and…

Fragments of what Dietrich…Porthus – was _everyone_ going by a pseudonym? (and no, Angel himself didn't count, because…well _because_) – said before the pain shot through him like a stake came back to him:

_I may not have her, but you won't either. And you'll never be a demon again._

_…never be a demon again._

And now suddenly tonight was starting to make some sense.

But could he just ask why the heck every demon in town knew more about his curse than he did? Did the Kalderash send out a damn newsletter?

Speaking of Kalderash, he had a bone to pick with the junior member here. "You yelled 'no'. When…"

"I know." Janna cut him off, obviously not wanting to discuss the details of just how much more 'them' than 'us' she really was.

Tough. Because as of now he was officially sick of being the Kalderash whipping boy. His soul had done _nothing_ to these people and he was tired of paying the toll for things he'd done when it wasn't really him and…

Wow. This was new. Very, very new. He didn't feel guilty. Not really. Hardly at all.

This was…neat. Who knew there was a difference between a temporary soul and a permanent one? Of course, he hadn't known his used to be temporary in the first place and he really had nothing to compare it to seeing as how he hadn't had a soul in centuries and when he was human he'd spent most of his time too inebriated to even spell the word 'soul'. But setting aside the pointless existential musings, this was a very good thing.

He suddenly felt almost bad about the fact that Porthus, the demon inadvertently responsible for vastly improving the quality of Angel's unlife, was nothing more than the memory of evaporating silver goo.

'Almost' being the operative word, because Porthus had tried to do unspeakable things to Willow and hadn't actually _meant_ to do Angel a good turn, so his being deceased wasn't such an unspeakable tragedy. And anyway, Xander was the one who'd done Porthus in, not Angel, so he had nothing to feel badly about, no matter what.

Again, however, his interior monologue had taken him right out of his surroundings, and he seemed to have missed a good portion of a rather heated conversation.

"…all the good that Angel's done. Didn't it occur to anyone after oh, say, a century, that since Angel didn't even have his soul when he killed your princess, that maybe he's suffered enough?" Willow's colour was high; the look on her face would have cowed even Darla. Since Angel could not have agreed more – and would never concede that the look might have even worried his demon – he was glad he'd re-entered the theatre in time to see the best part of the show.

"As much as I think there's something poetic about the idea of Angel suffering for all eternity, I've gotta say Willow might have a point." That chill Angel suddenly felt must have been from Hell freezing over. Was Xander Harris taking his side? "Besides, the way you made Angel suffer made the rest of us suffer, too. All that brooding? It gets pretty annoying." Thanks for that, Harris. Next time you get attacked…

"Yes, well… I…" Giles had walked away from Janna sometime during all of this and sat down in one of the few intact pews. "This has been quite a dramatic evening, hasn't it?" His words were apropos of nothing, but both Willow and Xander were quiet now, gazing sympathetically at him. The man looked rather stricken and Angel felt almost sorry for him. Giles hadn't exactly chosen the right woman to fall for, now had he?

Janna went and sat beside him. "I'm sorry, Rupert."

"Yes, well…"

"I had no choice."

"Of course, you did what you felt was right. One could hardly argue with that." Giles's words were of understanding, but that frosty and reserved British tone was as close to slapping the woman as Giles was ever going to get. Pity, because Angel would have liked to see an actual hand hitting her cheek.

How wonderful it was to think something like that without feeling paroxysms of crippling guilt.

But rather than being able to relax into the moment and enjoy the sensation of being petty with no strings attached…

"I hope you realize, dead guy, that this soul thing does not mean you get to put the moves on Willow again."

Tbc…


	16. Chapter 16

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Sixteen)

It had been only about twelve hours since Porthus had perished at the end of a Three Musketeers bar and what Willow needed very badly was the chance to do some thinking. Her sleep had been plagued by strange dreams (including one completely unbelievable one featuring Cordelia Chase making out with Xander), and what was most disturbing about them was that they were _less_ bizarre than the events of last night. Yes, what Willow required right now was some quiet time where she could think through everything that had happened and try to understand it all.

She wasn't going to get it, that was for sure, at least not anytime soon.

"Xander, it's okay. Really. I mean, you killed Porthus and I think that pretty much makes everything alright. " And it _was_ all okay, sort of, but she was also kind of irritated that she had to have this conversation with him at this precise date and time. Not that she wasn't happy that he'd come by to apologize and all – and she was really, really grateful that he'd helped save her from becoming a Porthus-ette – but she was tired and – again – she was really craving some solitude in which to think deep thoughts (or at least figure out what the hell had happened to her life during her brief name change).

But no, Xander was going to keep right on talking. Willow tried to keep her sigh inaudible.

"No, it isn't. I mean, yeah, killing him was one of the highlights of my life and I intend to bask in the glory for as long as humanly possible," Xander preened slightly before continuing, "but I should have realized that Dietrich was Porthus. The guy was just too slick. He _had_ to be a demon."

A part of Willow heard subtext in his words – subtext that sounded suspiciously like 'the guy was too good-looking to want you if he hadn't actually been a disgusting, shriveled-up demon' – but she might just have been insecure and overly sensitive, so she decided to let it slide and let him keep talking.

Besides, starting an argument would keep him at her house longer.

It had been about twelve hours since Angel had been forced to endure the spectacle of the far-too-pleased-with-himself Xander Harris doing in Porthus with a candy bar and what he really needed was rest and the chance to collect his thoughts. After all, he had literally been made a new man tonight and that was no small thing. He was already feeling so strange without the brooding that he was this close to brooding about its absence just to make himself feel more normal. Add in the turmoil Willow had brought to his emotional life and…well…he really needed to take the time to get to know himself better.

He wasn't going to get it anytime soon; that seemed certain.

"I understand how you feel, but there's nothing going on between Willow and I." That was as honest as could be…well, _sort of_, anyway, and really, after everything that poor Giles had just learned, it was kindness itself to spare him from more unequivocal, unvarnished truth. Between learning Jenny Calendar was a Kalderash Gypsy and that he had yet another super-powered teenager in his charge, well…come to think of it, _Angel_ could use a vacation from any more of this revelation stuff as well. Speaking of which, he could also use some peace and quiet.

Giles, however, wasn't buying Angel's denial. Which meant that he wasn't leaving.

"Excuse me if I find that difficult to believe in light of your recent conduct. It's obvious to everyone that your interest in her has turned into something more than strictly platonic. And that brings me to another matter we also need to discuss." Oh no, here it comes…a lecture about his intentions. "Might I inquire what you intend to do about Buffy?"

Buffy? Oh _Buffy_. Now Angel remembered, though he wondered why she was proving to be so easy to forget. Did she actually have to be right in front of him in order for him to recall the feelings he'd been so sure of in days gone by? Had their whole relationship really been based on no sturdier foundation than a mutual interest in fighting evil and her tendency to display her charms with hearty abandon?

Did Angel really want an answer to that last question? Not really. So he just set his mind to figuring out how to answer Giles.

Alone at last. Willow had been so grateful when she spotted an opening by which to ease Xander out the door. So grateful was she, in fact, that she had foregone the opportunity it had _also_ afforded to mention that his killing of Porthus was entirely accidental, despite her lingering bitterness over his certainty that Dietrich was only using her to get to Buffy even before he knew that Dietrich and Porthus were one and the same. Maybe it was juvenile of her, but his remarks still stung.

And hey, he was lucky she'd even let him into her house today because, she suddenly recalled with belated wakefulness, she had actually banned him from this very residence not twenty-four hours earlier.

Right now, however, nothing mattered as much as the fact that she was alone – blissfully alone. It made her realize that she was still very tired. Nearly being demonized could sure take it out of a girl. Maybe she should go take a nap and do the thinking thing later. Not that she didn't have a whole day's worth of ruminating to do, but she might do a better job if she took a nap first. Even just dealing with the ramifications of kissing Angel (because really, as much as he'd initiated it, her annoyingly accurate memory supplied enough details of her tongue in his mouth and her hands wandering down to his - Eep! Don't go there - to label her an equal participant) would require a very sharp mind. And Willow's mind right now? Not so sharp. Kind of dull, actually. Not butter knife dull, but definitely dull – like that steak knife they'd had since she was little that never cut anything except her finger when she'd tried to slice a tomato with it. Yeah. Like that.

A nap was definitely called for, she decided once she could pull her mind back from its meandering into the cutlery drawer. With that in mind, she directed her feet towards the stairs and…

The doorbell rang. Oh shoot! Who the heck could it be now?

Alone at last. Angel could not remember ever being so grateful to see the door close behind a departing visitor and he was a creature fonder than most of showing would-be companions where to head in. So eager had he been to ensure the passage of that tweed jacket from his living room that he'd stayed silent through the rest of Giles's pompous disquisition on Angel's unsuitability as a beau for either Willow _or_ Buffy. The things a vampire put up with in order to get some peace and quiet.

And hey, on the subject of unsuitable romantic interests, was Giles – whose love life revolved around a Kalderash Gypsy on a mission to keep Angel miserable for eternity – really one to go casting stones? Angel might brood (at least he did before last night), but he kept his misery neatly confined to the sanctum of his own psyche, thank you very much, and felt no need to consign others to the same fate.

Right now, however, what Angel really needed to do was sit down and take stock. He was alone, happily alone, in his Spartan abode with not so much as a television set to serve as a distraction. Now was the perfect time for…well…some soul-searching. (Yes, he winced internally at the phrase, but it was the one that fit, so what could he do?) Still, he had to admit to a certain level of fatigue. Spending a night fighting evil alongside the likes of Xander Harris _and_ getting the nature of one's being transformed had a way of taking it out of a guy. Even dealing with just the ramifications of kissing Willow (and okay, yes, she had kissed him back – quite skillfully, too, for a girl so delectably innocent – but he'd initiated it and the buck stopped at Angel) would require a mind equipped for emotional angst. His mind right now? Not quite ready for that sort of thing. The most he could manage to wade through would be one of Buffy's rants about getting demon slime on a new blouse. And no, he wasn't actually interested in doing that either.

He needed some sleep – that was the ticket, sleep. A few hours of shut-eye and he'd feel like a new vampire, all revved up and ready for a bracing round of self-analysis and the sort of reflection that did not involve a mirror.

Just then, there was a knock on his door. Dammit! Who the hell was it this time?

Willow fought the simultaneous impulses to hide and yell 'go away', forcing herself instead to go to the door and, rather than fling it open and glare at her new visitor, open it calmly and try to be polite.

She was actually sort of shocked when she saw who it was. "Ms. Calendar…I mean Kalderash. What are you doing here?" Oops! How's the politeness thing going for you, Willow? Gee, not so well, thanks. "I mean, it's kind of a surprise to see you. Come in." She stood back and allowed her caller to enter.

"You can call me Jenny, Willow. I think we've gone way beyond the teacher/student relationship by now." The words seemed oddly sharp but her expression was kindly, so Willow smiled at her as she led her into the living room where they both sat down on the sofa.

"Okay, Jenny. Or…would you prefer Janna?" The moment those last words left her mouth, Willow knew she'd misspoken. She'd been trying to be understanding, but instead, she seemed to have upset Ms…Jenny. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just…I'm not Janna anymore, and I never will be again. I spoke to my uncle last night and…they've disowned me."

"Oh gosh!" Willow exclaimed. She felt for Jenny; she really did. There were advantages, she realized, to having parents who paid no attention to you – even if Willow ever did anything they'd want to disown her for, the likelihood of them ever finding out she'd done it was pretty much nil.

"I'll be okay. At least I have a job, right?" Jenny tried to laugh, but it came off sort of pathetic.

"And friends," Willow added, reaching over and putting her hand over Jenny's, "Don't forget your friends."

"Thank you." It was easy to tell Jenny wanted to say more, but she didn't.

Willow figured that she knew what Jenny wanted to say, though, so she brought it up herself. "Giles will be okay with this. I know it. He understands sacred duty type stuff. Just give him some time."

Again, there was a fond look before Jenny's face got that 'grown-up distance' expression. "Yes, well…I didn't come here to talk about me. I came here to talk about you."

"Me?" Oh no. Not another lecture. She'd just finished keeping a straight face while Xander chided her for doing dangerous stuff. She was too tired to endure another one with equanimity.

"Yes, you, Willow. I know Giles will probably want to discuss this with you as well," Willow braced herself, "but I also want to help if I can. We need to start training you. The power you have…you need to be taught to use it properly."

What? Huh? What?

Angel fought the urge to vamp as he nearly threw open his apartment door. This had better not be another one of those damn magazine salesmen.

Oh no. Getting a good look at the person standing in the hallway, Angel changed his mind. Where was a magazine salesman when you needed one? He'd happily buy subscriptions from now until the obsolescence of paper rather than face… "Xander. What are you doing here?" He stood squarely in the middle of the doorway.

Xander, of course, pushed right past him and into the apartment. "Thanks, Deadboy. I'd love to come in and have a chat with you."

"You wanna get to the point?" Angel said, bristling with irritation he fought to suppress at the demeaning new sobriquet with which the obnoxious boy had just tagged him. The last thing he needed to do was let Harris know he'd scored a hit.

"I just came from Willow's house." Okay, if that was an explanation it was one only comprehensible to junk-food-addled thought processes.

"And?" Angel replied, wishing he had a watch on so he could gaze pointedly at it. He contented himself with crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

"Annnnnnd," Xander drew out the word melodramatically, "We need to talk about her. More specifically, we need to talk about you and her."

Goody. A lecture from Xander Harris warning him to stay away from Willow. Add in a bracing cold shower in holy water and a jog in the noonday sun and this could be Angel's best day ever. "Do we now?"

"Look," Xander said, parking himself on Angel's couch, his tone less strident and more serious, "I didn't come here to pick a fight with you, okay? I came here to make sure that you don't hurt my best friend. Because Willow's pretty special, and I think you've noticed that, and I want to make sure you understand just _how_ special she is and how much longer you _won't_ live if you break her heart."

Huh? What? Huh?

Tbc…


	17. Chapter 17

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Seventeen)

"Power? Me?" Okay, one word questions that weren't terribly coherent, but really, the whole idea that she had some sort of natural mojo was just too weird. Okay, yes, Dietrich…Porthus…whoever had said she did, but Willow had pretty much convinced herself that he had read his tea leaves wrong or something and she'd shuffled this issue to the bottom of the giant pack she currently had to deal with. Finding out that Jenny agreed with him made her wonder if maybe she wasn't the only one who'd drunk something un-kosher at Willie's.

"I know it's hard to accept," Jenny said, taking Willow's hand in hers, "But Rup…Giles and I have both seen it. Angel, too." That last name was said quietly, almost grudgingly, and Willow might have wondered about that, maybe (or maybe not, actually, all things considered), if she weren't still stupefied and confused by the whole idea that she was something…sort of like Buffy, at least in a 'having otherworldly powers' kind of way.

She thought of sitting down and then realized she already was. Darn. That was inconvenient. Because she couldn't very well _lie_ down with company here. She was just going to have to keep feeling uncomfortably dizzy and sort of queasy.

"I just…are you guys sure? Because I really don't feel all that magical." And she didn't. She still felt like Willow – and that wasn't a really impressive kind of feeling. How could the girl who got made fun of nearly every day, the girl whose one and only super power had always appeared to be her uncanny ability to blow every grade curve, be something extraordinary?

Jenny chuckled lightly, and Willow wondered if maybe she was being made fun of, but then the woman spoke. "You are. You've just never tapped into that well within you. You don't even know what it is yet. But that's why you need to start learning, to start training. Having that kind of power inside you…unfocused and out of your command? It's just going to attract more creatures like Porthus, demons who want to use it for their own ends, unless you own it."

Okay, was it just Willow or did Jenny's characterization of her power her sound really, really scary? It gave her this visual of something alien inside her and it was creepy. Also nauseating. And had she mentioned scary? Really, really scary?

You know the part where she'd always secretly sort-of-kind-of envied Buffy? Yeah, she wanted to take that back now.

"Willow? You want to talk about me and Willow?" Smooth, Angel. Especially the part where your voice got high and squeaky at the end. But really – the idea of Xander Harris sitting calmly on his couch talking about Angel and Willow as a potential couple? It was easily the strangest thing that had happened to him in decades, and that included the haircut he'd sported during the 70's. What about the 'no putting the moves on Willow' edict he'd issued last night?

"I know what you're thinking," Xander said and Angel nearly burst out laughing. Probably not even close. But still, he kept his mirth in check and decided to listen to what the boy had to say. "I hate you, you hate me, and no, that's never going to change." His face got that serious look again and Angel wondered if he was possessed. "But I love Willow and I want her to be happy."

Angel needed to sit. Sadly, the only place to sit was on the couch next to Xander and that was not going to happen, so… He stayed standing. When this was over, maybe tonight, he really needed to look into buying some more furniture. He had taken Spartan to an inconvenient extreme.

"Not that I don't appreciate the magnanimity and all," Angel said, eyeing Xander for hidden stakes, "but I really don't see how this is any of your business." And he didn't. In his opinion, Willow had always been a better friend to Xander than vice versa. Add to that the fact that he still couldn't believe Xander had changed his mind so suddenly (or at all, really) and…well…no, he wasn't in a diplomatic frame of mind.

Xander stood up. "Look, whether you like it or not, Willow _is_ my best friend. So her dating a vampire? A vampire who used to be her best friend's boyfriend? Yeah – that's my business." He stopped for a moment and seemed to collect himself. "Honestly, I don't even know why I'm suddenly okay with this. Because this could easily turn into something very bad once Buffy comes home. But the way I see it, you two broke up anyway, and Willow? Now that it seems she's actually some sort of super-power in her own right, I'm thinking she needs a guy who can handle that. And as much as I hate to admit it, you're probably that guy."

This could not possibly get more bizarre. But just when he felt like his brain was going to explode from the effort of trying to cope with the idea of Xander accepting him having any kind of relationship with Willow – and let's not forget that Angel himself was still trying to adjust to that idea – something Xander had said registered with him and it all seemed to suddenly make some sort of sense.

"And of course this has nothing to do with you wanting a shot with Buffy."

"Is there any way I could just…give it back or something? Because I'm not the super power type. Ask anyone. I'm much more the wait-for-Buffy-to-kill-it type."

Jenny made a dismissive sound before responding, "That's not remotely true. Look at the way you went after Porthus. The way you were prepared to go it alone when you thought Buffy needed protection."

Hmmm. That was kind of a good point. And Willow almost got kind of puffed up about it until her darn memory insisted on reminding her that she'd also nearly wound up as a shriveled silver demon and it took four people to rescue her. Some magic girl.

Maybe she'd said that aloud. Or maybe Jenny could read minds. "You didn't even know that you had that power within you. You could hardly have been expected to use it. But that makes what you did even more remarkable."

Remarkable? Really? Because words like 'stupid' seemed more appropriate considering how she'd wound up drugged and tied to a table. But Jenny was a teacher, so maybe she knew stuff. Of course, since she had lied about her name, maybe she'd lied about other things. What if she wasn't a teacher at all? What if…?

Okay, paranoid conspiracy theories were so not helpful to Willow's emotional well-being right now.

"I know you don't necessarily trust me right now." Willow's eyes shot wide. _Could_ Jenny read minds? "And I understand that. But I know that when you talk to Giles, you'll see that he agrees with me."

"He really _is_ going to forgive you, you know," Willow offered, leaping eagerly at the opening for a change of topic. "He just needs some time to get over the whole 'you lying to all of us for months' thing." Gosh, that actually sounded harsher than she meant it to be, but she added a cheery grin and hoped for the best.

Jenny's hopeful expression put Willow's fears of mind-reading to rest, at least, since she obviously couldn't sense Willow's actual ambivalence (or those pesky conspiracy theories that wouldn't go away). But of course, Jenny immediately schooled her features back into 'adult-face' and turned the tables again. "There's something else we need to talk about. We need to talk about Angel."

"You know, Deadboy, I resent that. Here I am actually trying to be nice to you and…"

"And your evasiveness just proves my point. This is all about you thinking that with me out of the way, you'll have a clear shot at Buffy." Angel paused and then even he was shocked by what he said next. "You have my blessing. You might even be good for her."

He couldn't believe he just said that, but oddly, he really was sort of comfortable with the idea of Xander and Buffy…except for the part where he thought Xander might actually be good for her. Oh, he _thought_ that – he just felt incredibly queasy about the fact that he did.

Xander, naturally, had to display implausible perspicacity. "Bet that hurt for you to say." More of that smug expression Angel had learned to loathe last night. Someday he was going to show the boy up. He could hardly wait for that day to arrive.

"No more than it hurt you to come here in the first place." Taking a breath, he decided to save the game of 'so's your old man' for another time. "Look. You're right – I've developed feelings for Willow. And yes, Buffy and I are over. Sometimes, I'm not even sure there really was a Buffy and I. I mean, yeah, she's great-looking and we both care about fighting evil, but…"

Stop! If Angel wasn't mistaken, he had just been about to make self-revelatory statements to Xander Harris. Oh, the humanity. Thank heavens he'd restrained himself in the nick of time.

"I'm guessing Buffy doesn't exactly have those same doubts, but don't worry," Xander touched his hands to his shoulders, "See these? They're right here for her to cry on. She'll forget all about you in no time…well, except for when she sees you with Willow. Oh God. This is badness, lots and lots of badness."

Xander's pessimism had a chilling effect on Angel. "You don't think… she wouldn't _hurt_ Willow, would she?" Maybe he and Willow ought to leave town for a short while…say, five or ten years.

"No, Willow would probably be safe. _You_ on the other hand? Do they make stake-proof vests?" Angel could almost see a light bulb going on over Xander's head. "Hey! Maybe Willow could conjure up something like that with those mystical powers she's supposed to have." The boy's face turned serious again as his own words seemed to remind him of something. "Speaking of which, we need to have a talk. You do like her for _her_ right, and not just because she might be some kind of super hero or something now?"

"Angel?" Willow asked, her voice high enough to suggest the inhalation of helium in place of oxygen. "Why do we need to talk about Angel?"

"I think you know why." Jenny's manner became motherly and the hair on the back of Willow's neck stood up. She never trusted 'motherly'. When her own mother acted that way, it was a sure sign of an ulterior motive and impending disaster (and no, she did not even want to _think_ about how her mother had actually used the confidences she'd elicited last time in a paper she'd delivered at a symposium).

Willow decided to keep playing dumb. "No. I can't think of anything." And that would work so much better if she didn't sound guilty as could be. Acting was not her forté.

"Angel told me that he kissed you."

"Oh _that_," Willow said.

"Yes, that. I know that I'm probably not the person to talk to you about this. I know that you might see me as prejudiced. But I have to tell you that it's a terrible idea to have a relationship with him." Here it comes…the lecture. Bring it on. Would it be: 'you're stealing your best friend's boyfriend' (something about which Willow already felt endless amounts of guilt) or 'he's not actually interested in you' (Willow's deepest and most abiding fear)? "He's a vampire, Willow."

Was it Willow or was a statement that obvious really a letdown?

"Are you serious?" Angel asked, quickly reviving his previous low opinion of Xander's intelligence and affection for Willow. "What would make you ask a question like that?"

"I don't know, Angel," Xander's tone was sarcastic. "Maybe the fact that you've barely ever spoken to her before and now all of a sudden you're all over her?"

'All over her'? That was a bit crudely characterized. Was this about Willow's hands on his..? No. Couldn't be that. They'd been positioned wrong for Xander to have seen and anyway… Quit thinking this to death and just say something. "It was one kiss." Xander snorted, but said nothing, which only irritated Angel more than ever. He almost told himself to take a deep breath and calm down when it occurred to him that breathing hadn't done much for him in over two centuries. Boy was he getting forgetful in his old (er) age.

Still, Xander had a point (and oh how he hated to concede that). It _was_ rather sudden. Even Angel had been taken utterly by surprise by his new perspective on Willow. But in his defense, it wasn't as if he'd really ever had the chance to spend time with Willow before and what little time he had, either Buffy had been there or Willow's life needed saving – neither scenario had really allowed for a whole lot of getting to know each other. Then of course there was the whole 'brooding loner' thing; Angel was disgusted with the memory of what he'd been like only twenty-four hours ago. Sheesh. What a downer he'd been.

Which brought up a very important point. One which he decided to try discussing in a roundabout way. The last thing he wanted was to give Xander something else to be smug about.

"Have you talked about any of this with Willow?"

Tbc…


	18. Chapter 18

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Eighteen)

"I know he's a vampire. It's not exactly a secret," Willow sniped, knowing she sounded disrespectful but unable to stop herself. 'He's a vampire'? Didn't she deserve a better lecture than that? It was almost as impersonal as something she'd hear from her mom.

Jenny stood up, alternating between wringing her hands and gesturing randomly as she began to pace. "I know you think you know. But you don't. Not really. Willow, he's a monster. The atrocities he's committed…you have no idea."

It was official. Willow was completely and utterly fed up with cryptic. And that meant from everyone. Okay, maybe not Angel, but everyone else. Absolutely everyone else. Why couldn't Jenny just say what it was she thought Willow was supposed to be so horrified about? And hey – newsflash! Unless she knew something the Watcher's Council (and Giles) didn't, any and all atrocities had been committed _before_ Angel had gotten his soul back, so really none of it was his fault anyway. Sheesh.

She decided that saying all of that to herself was pointless, so she opened her mouth and out it came, "You know, all of that stuff happened when he was still a soulless demon, so don't you think maybe you should cut him some slack or make allowances or just lighten up?"

Shock. Jenny seemed to be in complete shock. Was it wrong that Willow sort of enjoyed it? Okay, maybe not 'sort of'. She _did_ enjoy it. Sue her – she'd been predictable and deferential to authority figures her whole life. There was something empowering about being surprising and defiant. Because hey, now that she had super powers and all, she should probably be less on the meek side anyway.

Of course, immediately after the rush came the crash. Guilt. "I'm sorry," she said to Jenny, hoping it would undo whatever she'd done.

No wonder she found Angel attractive (and yes, she was completely admitting it now). They had so much in common.

"You mean did I tell her it's okay for you two to date? Are you nuts?" Xander asked, fortunately coming only vaguely near to Angel's actual concern. "First of all, I wanted to make sure this wasn't some game with you, and second, it's not like you and I are bestest buds. If I had suggested that she should date you, she'd think I was possessed - again."

Excellent points, and Angel had to concede them, but this was damned inconvenient. He fought to stay seated and maintain a nonchalant façade, but inside he was tense and unsettled.

It was official. Angel was completely and utterly annoyed with humans. All of them. (Yes, even Willow) How was he supposed to know if she was actually interested in him? Okay, there was the kiss, and she'd been a pretty enthusiastic participant, but that might only mean she enjoyed being kissed, not that she enjoyed it because it was _Angel_ who had kissed her. With vampires, it was so much easier – no dating, no arch wordplay, no subtle signals to read or misread. Usually, you'd just give each other the eye and – Bam! There you were, naked and fucking like there was no tomorrow. Okay, it wasn't exactly emotionally fulfilling, but sheesh, at least you knew where you stood (or lay…or rolled…or…).

Sharing any of his thoughts with Xander , however, would be a mistake, so Angel kept them to himself, saying instead, "So, you intend for her to just think you're against the idea? Don't you think maybe that might stand in the way? She _is_ your best friend. I have to assume your opinion matters to her."

Xander had that smug look again. Damn. "If I tell her I'm cool with this, she'll think the same thing you did – that it's all about me and Buffy. Then you'll have no chance at all. Nope, I'll just grumble about it mildly and then let her yell at me for being unreasonable. I'm thinking grudging acceptance at the point of her Resolve Face is the way to go." That made…sense. For a moment, Angel was actually impressed with the boy's cunning and guile.

Of course, after that, he felt sick to his stomach. How low could he fall? Admiring Xander Harris? At this rate, he was going to end up friends with him or something.

As plucky and adorable as Willow was (and let's not forget the kissing), Angel wasn't at all sure he wanted to have this in common with her.

Willow's lecture hadn't worked (of course, her apology might have been to blame for that) and Jenny stayed cryptic and dire. They achieved détente, but that was about it, before Jenny left with a sigh after extracting a promise from Willow that she'd talk to Giles about training if Giles didn't bring it up first.

Unfortunately, while she was still incredibly worn-out, she'd caught a second wind and a nap was the impossible dream. As much as Willow longed to head upstairs and get some shut-eye, she was well aware that all that would happen would be pointless tossing and turning until she gave up and got up. Shoot. What was she supposed to do now?

There was always the 'going over to Giles to ask about training' thing, and she seriously considered it, but she was still having too much of a wiggins over the idea of having magical powers in the first place to talk about it yet. After all, it _was_ pretty wacky. It wasn't like she was really the magical type. Hello? Science geek here. Okay, yeah, she'd crossed over into the 'Strange Stories and Amazing Facts' realm more than just a bit what with the being Buffy's sidekick (and almost Porthus's mate) thing, but still…

Could her life get any weirder?

Oh yeah, it could. Because she had a thing for a vampire. Not just any vampire either, but the vampire who had only recently been her best friend's boyfriend. Her best friend the _Slayer_, who had super powers she actually knew how to use.

Could she just rewind to the part where she was going to spend the summer watching Jeopardy and pining over Xander?

Angel couldn't figure out any workable stratagem for surreptitiously finding out if Xander had any firsthand knowledge of how Willow felt or if it was all his own perception and the wishful thinking Angel still was not convinced was impossible. After a few more interminable minutes, Xander allowed himself to be persuaded that he wanted to leave and Angel found himself breathing a ridiculous sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, there was no way in Hell he was going to get any rest now, not with all these concerns about Willow tearing his peace of mind into confetti and throwing it hither and yon. No, he'd just end up lying there, tossing and turning on that ridiculously narrow bed of his (really, would it have hurt his redemption to get a king size?) until he finally gave up and got up, so what was the point?

You'd think after all these centuries, he'd have a grip on the subject of women, wouldn't you? Wrong. He was a bigger idiot than he'd ever been, even as a human. Of course, he'd been drunk most of the time back then, so that might have coloured both his actions and his memories. As a demon, though…as a demon he'd been suave, polished, seductive, and confident. Angelus would never have needed to ask himself if a slip of a girl found him attractive; he'd have known she did and he'd have acted on it. Of course, he'd have also drained her after he'd taken his pleasure, but that wasn't the point.

Now that he had a permanent soul, couldn't he be allowed just a bit of his demon's gifts?

Probably not, he supposed. The Kalderash hand was still on him, for all its fingers had been snapped by Porthus's trap. But still, it seemed utterly unfair. Xander Harris, of all people, seemed confident that he could win over Buffy, who was so far out of his league that it was ridiculous. What would be so wrong if Angel were allowed at least _appropriate_ confidence?

If this self-doubt was his new punishment, could he please trade it in and get the guilt back?

Just as Willow was about to see if going online would distract her, the phone rang. Oh great. Probably Xander. She debated not answering it, but what if it was her parents? She might not talk to them again for months. So she went to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Willow!"

Oh god… "Buffy?" Willow asked, trying hard not to sound as freaked out as she felt. Of all the times for her friend to call.

"That's me," Buffy chirped. She sounded carefree and happy and Willow was suddenly so consumed by guilt that she almost wished she _had_ been transformed into an icky silver demon last night. It would serve her right. "So, what are you up to?"

Oh, getting kidnapped by a demon, finding out I have magical powers, stealing your boyfriend… "Nothing much," Willow lied. "It's kinda quiet around here." Well, _today_ it was, so that wasn't really a lie, was it? "How about you?"

"I'm great!" Willow could almost _hear_ Buffy bouncing on the other end of the line. "But…" Her voice fell and Willow wondered why. "Have you seen Angel?" And the guilt just increased exponentially. Before she could lie and say 'no', Buffy started talking again. "You know, before we left, things were kind of…and you know, in relationships, sometimes things happen that change everything. Big things. Important things. And I just…" Willow heard a voice in the background and then everything was muffled – it seemed as if Buffy had put her hand over the receiver. A moment later, she was back."I gotta go, Wills. I'm sorry. I'll call you back soon, okay? Bye!"

"No, wait!" Willow yelled futilely into the phone. Buffy had already hung up. Darn!

What was going on? What was Buffy talking about? Whatever it was, it seemed to be about Angel, but what could it be? What were the big, important things? Buffy sure had sounded all chirpy and happy…excessively so, actually. Then her tone had changed so suddenly. It was weird enough that it gave Willow a wiggins now that she thought about it. Buffy had never been mood swing gal before, so why would she...?

Willow ran through reason after reason, at last resorting to things she remembered from her mom's books on teenage behaviour.

Oh God.

Had Buffy and Angel had sex?

Just as Angel had decided that tossing and turning didn't sound so bad after all, the doorbell rang. Great. When did his apartment become the hottest ticket in town? He debated not answering it, but it was daytime and there was no way he could pretend he wasn't home.

"Hello," he said curtly as he opened the door. He knew he couldn't be lucky enough for his visitor to be Willow.

"Angel."

Ah, Jenny, charming as ever. Always good to see a member of the Kalderash family. Oh wait – it wasn't. "I'd invite you in, but that would imply I wanted to talk to you and since I don't…"

Jenny pushed past him anyway. Maybe Xander was on the wrong track. Sure Jenny was older, but really, they were made for each other. Rude, pushy, annoying – frankly, he was amazed they hadn't already found each other. "Too bad. We're going to have a talk anyway."

"I'm pretty sure we don't have anything to talk about. Contrary to your belief, my life is none of your business, especially not now. I'm pretty sure your family already knows that their little plot to keep me suffering forever went haywire and I'm also pretty sure they blame you." The look on Jenny's face told him he'd scored a bullseye. Good. At least he had insight into _something_.

Her voice was softer then he'd ever heard from her when she spoke again. "Look. We're not friends and we never will be." Where had he heard that before? Oh yeah – Xander! And again he wondered why those two weren't dating. "But we do have one thing in common. We both care about Willow. Neither one of us wants to see her hurt. And I think we both know that you're all wrong for her."

Okay, maybe she and Xander weren't made for each other after all. And really, coming from someone who'd lied to Willow for months, the concern seemed slightly hypocritical, especially since she'd known something about Angel that really had put Willow in danger. "Okay, you've said what you wanted to say. I'd like you to leave now." When Jenny hesitated, he took her arm and guided her back to the door. "Now," he repeated.

She relented, probably because she wanted him to let go of her – good thing being able to use repulsion to your advantage there, Angel. "Think about what I said," were the last words he heard before he closed the door behind her.

With that, Angel at last felt free to go toss and turn to his heart's content. But just as he laid down, the doorbell rang again. It seemed that Jenny must have changed her mind and wanted to harangue him some more.

He was fed up. This was it. No more Mr. Nice Vamp. Full game face – complete with golden eyes – in force, he leapt from the bed, and was at the door in less than a second.

"What?" he roared as he flung it open.

Oh no. It wasn't Jenny. It was…

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Buffy were having sex?"

Tbc…


	19. Chapter 19

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Nineteen)

Within seconds of her outburst, Willow found herself regretting it. Oh gosh did Angel look mad. Golden eyes, ridges, fangs…Eep! Not as ugly as Porthus, but much scarier, actually, so she figured it even deserved a second inner squeal. Eep! Her heart was pounding with fear and she thought it was going to explode.

Luckily, Angel's regular face soon reappeared and Willow's heart decided that it didn't want to burst after all. That was good. It was one of her favorite organs and she didn't think she'd do too well without it.

Actually, watching Angel's features change was kind of fascinating, come to think of it, and she figured it might even have been worth the whole fear thing just to see it happen. Hearing about it from Buffy was nothing like seeing it live and in person. Wow…vampires were really different.

So caught up was she in contemplating Angel's transformation that she almost forgot what she'd come here about. Almost wasn't completely, though, and her mind soon steered itself back onto the main road. "Don't you get all grr with me, mister! How dare you kiss me when you've been having sex with Buffy!"

What? Where in the hell had Willow gotten the idea that he was having sex with Buffy? Okay, yeah, he'd _thought_ about it – wanted it, in fact – but let's be fair…most males (and probably more than a few females) thought that way about Buffy. She was, after all, fit and beautiful and fond of displaying her assets in clothing that left very little to the imagination.

But there was a very wide margin between thought and action (if Willow were aware of the thoughts he'd had about _her_…) and it wasn't fair to penalize him when he'd never crossed that line.

He found himself sidetracked momentarily by the realization that Willow hadn't recoiled from his true face. If he could get this misconception about Buffy out of the way, that boded well, didn't it? Because really, she'd reacted with less fear than Buffy had the first time she'd seen his true face and with none of the revulsion. Okay, Buffy was the Slayer and she hadn't even known he was a vampire until that moment, but… Way to go, Angel. Just keep raining on your own parade.

For a moment, he was so tangled up in this side issue and its possible ramifications that he nearly forgot Willow was pretty angry with him at the moment. A glance at the look on her face, however, soon brought him back to reality and he remembered what she'd just said. "I have no idea what you're talking about, okay? Buffy and I have _not_ had sex!"

You know, Angel looked pretty sincere as he said that. As convinced as she'd been when she'd come here, she had to admit that Buffy hadn't actually _said_ she and Angel had sex; it had just sounded an awful lot like that's what she was hinting at. "You…you didn't?" Could she dare to get her hopes up?

"No. What made you think we had?"

Honestly? She had no idea what to say to Angel's question and she considered that a major _faux pas_ on her part. It was a question Willow should have expected and for which she should have prepared an answer. For someone who was always so adept at anticipating the questions on even the trickiest teacher's exams, she sure was failing at applying those classroom skills in a real world environment. Oh gosh! Did this mean school really _didn't_ prepare you for life?

"Ummm…" How could she say anything without violating Buffy's confidence? Okay, Buffy hadn't gotten around to telling her anything and she hadn't prefaced her words with a statement like 'please don't tell anyone about this', but still… Oh heck. This was one of those situations that screamed for a handbook with rules and examples, but there wasn't one so Willow was just going to have to wing it. She already sucked as a friend anyway. "Buffy sort of called today and…"

"She said we'd slept together?" Oh no. Angel seemed mad again. His eyes were all golden and flashing and stuff. Willow hastened to clear up the misconceptions.

"Not exactly. Well, actually no. It's just that she asked if I'd seen you and right after that she started talking about the way things were when she left and then she was saying all this cryptic stuff about big things that change relationships forever. But before I could find out what she meant, all of a sudden she hung up. So I just…okay, I assumed and she probably meant something else, but it seemed sort of logical. I mean, even you have to admit that it sort of _sounded_ like maybe she could have meant...you know…sex." This time, she blushed when she said the 'S' word. Now that her anger-fueled adrenaline had gone the way of Porthus, it occurred to her that she really was asking awfully impertinent questions.

Angel didn't look mad anymore, though. No more gold eyes, no ridges, and no fangs. But now that all that was gone, Willow couldn't tell _what_ he was feeling. He just stood there – all silent and taciturn and blank and cryptic-looking. "Angel? Are you okay?"

You know, that was a good question. Was Angel okay? He had no idea. Because, as confused as he was about his feelings for Buffy, what Willow just said had added a whole other dimension to that confusion. "Yeah. Just thinking." Nice lie there, boy-o.

"Oh. I probably should have done that before rushing over here all assuming and stuff, huh?"

Angel wasn't sure how to respond to that. Honestly? He found himself feeling glad that she had come over. She was the one visitor he'd had all morning who he actually liked – okay, more than liked – and even her yelling at him was a major improvement in the quality of his day. But now that she was here, he had no idea what to say to her, especially after knowing she'd just spoken to Buffy. Buffy – the stake-wielding elephant in the room.

"No…I mean…" He ran his hand through his hair and looked away. He'd been suave once – he had vivid memories of being suave – so why wasn't it there now? Not to sound ungrateful, but shouldn't a permanent soul also come with some further diminution of misery? Of course, he _was_ rather pleased to be rid of the guilt and maybe asking for more would be greedy, but still…Oh hell. Just say something. "I only wish Buffy had said more."

"It sounded like someone else was there, so she couldn't really talk." Willow seemed to be belatedly recalling some details.

Typical Buffy, Angel thought rather uncharitably, before chiding himself. She didn't deserve that. If nothing else, she was the best Slayer he'd ever seen and that alone merited his respect. It was _he_ who was the one whose actions weren't aboveboard, who was the one looking elsewhere – though why he should feel any compunction about that was a mystery since Buffy had made it pretty clear they were no longer a they before she left. "Did she give any clue about why she was asking about me?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them; it was clear they'd made Willow believe he was still interested in Buffy. He needed to clear that up. "Whatever it is she was calling about…she and I aren't together anymore."

Now that was out of the blue. The statement stopped Willow short. So did the way he was looking at her. He'd had that same look just last night when… Oh gosh. He was really…but Buffy…but there'd been kissing and it had been really neat…but then there was Buffy…who'd just called…

"Really?" Could her voice have sounded any more sappy and hopeful? Please let the look on her face not be what she just knew it was.

Willow was so going to Hell.

"Really," Angel replied. "Look, I know this isn't going to be easy, but, Willow…after last night…there's something between us and I think you feel it, too."

She nodded but decided not to speak. She felt incoherent vowel sounds coming on. Angel liked her! He really, really liked her! That was so…

Horrible! Angel had been Buffy's boyfriend. And while on one level it was kind of an ego boost to have the same guy who liked Buffy find her attractive (okay, more than kind of…but hey, cut her some slack, she'd been 'geek girl' forever), this was so wrong because Buffy was truly one of the best friends she'd ever had. Buffy had reached out to her and changed her life, made her a part of something greater than herself, and what did Willow do? Stabbed her in the back. There were commandments about this stuff and 'thou shalt not have smoochies with thy best friend's vampire' was definitely one of them.

Somehow, remembering Angel's excellent point that he and Buffy weren't a couple anymore did nothing to help.

Now Angel felt utterly at sea. Willow had said nothing, not one thing. This was a girl who couldn't say hello in less than fifteen words, but when Angel says there's something between them? Nothing. Not a single syllable. Of course, it could be that she was just overwhelmed – he did need to heed the fact that she was sheltered and inexperienced (and no, this was not the time to recall Drusilla…and he also saw no need to tell Willow about his childer at all). That had to be it. It could not in any way be because he was wrong.

"Willow?" It wasn't much as questions went, but there was no way he was going to let her know just how full of doubt and apprehension he was right now.

No reply. This was Hell. It had to be Hell.

"I'm sorry, I just…" She speaks! Angel almost sighed again. How ridiculous was that? Time to remember you're a vampire. "How is Buffy going to feel?"

Angel got it at last; he did. She felt guilty. He did, too, now that he thought about it, but it was such a meager feeling compared to the horrific burden of old that it was hard to notice. That was a gift really. In fact it was…

Great! After decades of being burdened by a guilt so onerous it had driven him to eat rats and forgo bathing, it was such a relief to see things in perspective. Angelus's deeds couldn't truly be held to Angel's account – though he still felt badly for all the dead and maimed – and hey, he had every right to start a relationship with Willow seeing as how Buffy had given him his walking papers. Okay, the fact that the two girls were best friends was a bit of a complication, but it wasn't an insurmountable obstacle. After all, Buffy always had plenty of boys vying for her attention; one in particular had just made his intentions clear and even gotten Angel's blessing. She'd replace Angel in no time (well, maybe not, but she'd find enough distractions to ease the pain until that far-off day when she either found someone reasonably close to his level or caved in and started dating Harris). Now he just had to convince Willow that it was all going to be okay.

Somehow that seemed like it was going to be easier said than done.

"She'll accept it. She's had a whole summer away to get over us and you're her best friend. You'll see. She might find it awkward at first, but…"

Was Angel crazy? "Awkward? Angel this is a lot more than awkward. This is someone Buffy trusts – someone there is no way she ever saw as competition – just walking in and… Oh gosh. This is badness."

Willow began to pace and ran her hand through her hair; a gesture that seemed vaguely familiar. Then she remembered where she had last seen it.

Brooding? Check. Guilt? Check. Black silk shirt? Check. And now… If she started drinking blood, she was going to seriously get a wiggins.

"You know. Jenny says I need to ask Giles to start training me. Do you have any idea what magic training is like?" When in doubt, you could never go wrong with a _non sequitur_.

"I'm guessing it's not like Buffy's training, is it?"

Huh? What was Willow talking about? Training? How had she even found this tangent, let alone gone off on it?

He watched her as she stood there, brow furrowed adorably, eyes wide and innocent, such a contrast to the pacing she'd just done and the brooding she'd seemed about to do (and no, Angel did not believe that he'd somehow passed that on to her).

It was funny, though, because her sudden and confusing change of subject made him realize something – she liked him…liked him a lot. She just didn't know what to do about it. That was okay, because Angel _did_.

Without bothering to answer her, Angel walked right up to her, pulled her into his arms and… Ah, bliss. When in doubt, you could never go wrong with a kiss.

Tbc...


	20. Chapter 20

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty)

Angel smoochies…oh…mmm…

Willow's brain had happily decided to take a much-needed vacation from higher functioning and just allow her to live in the moment. And oh what a moment it was. There were cool, yummy Angel-lips on her lips, an Angel-tongue sliding against her tongue, Angel-hands caressing her back and moving down to…

Eep!

Now her brain decided that enough was enough. Danger, Will Rosenberg! Still, her body took a while to catch up and start pushing him away instead of holding him close. When she did, she felt enormous regret. What was done was done though.

"Angel, we shouldn't." All right – that was easily the most clichéd thing she could have said. Couldn't someone with her English grades have come up with something more eloquent? Between this and her earlier failure to conjure up an effective and discreet answer to the Buffy question, she was now completely disillusioned about the value of education.

"Why not?" That was an excellent question. It really was. But yet again it was one for which Willow did not have an answer and she came very close to bursting into tears. It was official; school did _not_ prepare you for life.

"Because," she said, hoping that word would lead to more words which would then transform themselves into a perfectly reasonable response to Angel's query.

It did not, however. It sat alone in majestic pointlessness, the silence expanding around it until it was just a speck in the middle distance, growing ever smaller and sillier.

Soon, however, the silence was broken, and the sound that broke it did not help Willow's mood. She stepped back even further from Angel and, hands on hips, exclaimed, "What's so funny?"

Angel couldn't help himself; Willow was so adorable when she was flustered.

He tried to compose himself and transform his expression to one of more gravity, but it was futile; the smile remained (though at least he did manage to contain his mirth) as his thoughts drifted back to what they'd just shared.

Mmm…kissing Willow…oh yeah…

Angel's brain reminded him that he needed to do some rational thinking. Resolve Face at three o'clock! Still, the smile refused to go easily and it was only picturing Giles standing in the doorway that finally gave him the ability to compose his features properly at last.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoping his tone was sufficiently remorseful. Still, he winced as he heard the words. They weren't exactly original – or eloquent. He'd been talking comely lasses out of their knickers and inveigling hapless citizens into darkened alleys for centuries and he couldn't think of anything better than 'I'm sorry'? Where was his demon now that he needed him? Though even if his demon were willing to lend a hand, Angel was starting to wonder if he'd really be of any use. He wasn't planning on fucking and draining Willow.

"You were laughing at me." Willow was upset – _very_ upset. Angel hated himself for hurting her. Oh dammit! He had been so sure the brooding was over and done with, but now… It seemed that not even a permanent soul could banish it completely. Think, Angel. How are you going to fix this mess? It was official – being a vampire taught you _nothing_ about women.

"I wasn't…I mean…I know that's what it looked like but…"

Willow just stared, arms akimbo, Resolve Face still transforming her sweet features into something imposing.

"You make me happy, that's all."

At last! Hallelujah! Angel had said the right thing. Maybe he'd learned a thing or two after all.

She made Angel happy? Willow's jaw went slightly slack as she stared. That was probably (scratch the 'probably' and make it a 'definitely') the nicest thing a boy had ever said to her…that _anyone_ had ever said to her. Of course, Angel wasn't actually a boy, and he wasn't human or anything, but still… This had to be one of the best days of Willow's whole life.

Well, except for the part where she still felt as if she was poaching Buffy's territory somehow.

"I…I make you happy?" Somehow her utter lack of eloquence didn't bother her this time.

"Yeah. You do." Angel took her hands in his. How did he get near her again without her noticing? Oh, that would be the 'you make me happy' fog she'd been in. Okay.

"What are we going to do about Buffy?" Great. Nice job raining on your own parade there, Willow. They had sort of talked this out earlier. Couldn't she have just left it at that? Apparently not.

"We'll figure it out. It's not as if I'm cheating on her. She'll be okay with this."

While that was pretty much what Angel had said before, he sounded more convincing this time, actually, a lot more convincing. Willow almost believed him.

'She'll be okay with this'? Angel was dumbfounded at his own foolishness. Sure he'd said it before, but it didn't get more credible via repetition. It was probably the least believable lie he had told in…okay, the least believable lie he had _ever_ told. Even as a human, and that was saying something considering Liam's drunkenness took a toll on guile. This was the most pathetic day of Angel's life and unlife.

Well, except for finding out that his feelings for Willow were mutual.

"She's your friend, Willow. I'm sure she'll come around." Just dig yourself in deeper, there.

"I just…I don't want to hurt her. I know you guys aren't together anymore, but still…this is pretty sudden and she's not going to expect it, what with you and me barely speaking to each other when she left and all." He just kept holding Willow's hands, trying to ignore the fact that her point was quite valid and that Buffy almost certainly _would_ find this both surprising and distressing.

"We'll come up with a good way to give her the news." They'd better; either that or they'd be going with that stake-proof vest idea of Xander's. "I'm sure she'll understand." He was also sure that pigs had wings.

You know, just a few moments ago, he almost _had_ been confident that Buffy would be okay with this somehow. What was up with the mood swings? Were the Kalderash at it again?

Willow stood there for a moment, unaccustomedly quiet. It felt really good the way Angel was holding her hands. Maybe not as good as kissing him had felt, but still definitely of the very good.

She tried to think of something to say, something that wasn't about Buffy, but that also wasn't about training or magic. "Thanks." She decided to stop expecting herself to be witty and sparkling with the repartee and all. School = school and life = life and never the twain shall meet.

Angel appeared confused, as well he might since Willow had sort of forgotten to offer any context. "I mean thanks for saving me and everything. If it wasn't for you, I'd be all shriveled and silver right now."

His hold on her hands tightened as he squeezed them. "It wasn't just me."

"Well, no, but you're the one who stopped Porthus from completing the spell. By the time Xander and Giles got there, it would have been too late." Was it her imagination or was Angel beaming? Gosh! She finally managed to say the right thing. Maybe she had this life thing well in hand after all.

Angel stood there, clasping Willow's hands in his. He felt better now than he had when he'd first realized he no longer felt overwhelming guilt. This might not be as blissful as kissing Willow had been, but it was splendid nonetheless.

Perhaps he was being childish, but he couldn't help reveling in Willow's extremely logical recasting of him as last night's hero. "I'm just glad I got there in time," he offered, trying to seem modest, even as 'Take that, Harris!' itched to be yelled at the top of his voice. He didn't feel guilty about that, either, despite Xander's expressed approval of his relationship with Willow. That candy bar business still stuck in Angel's craw. Talk about luck.

Willow maintained her unusual silence, staring at their entwined hands. "Your life is pretty important to me," Angel said meaningfully.

"Your life is, too…I mean your _un_…you know what I mean, right?"

"There's no one like you." Angel chuckled softly as he spoke and pulled Willow into his arms again. Was it his imagination or was this the perfect time for another kiss? Well, there was only one way to find out. As he suited the action to the thought and Willow responded exactly as he might wish, he concluded that maybe he had women figured out after all – or at least Willow.

More Angel smoochies! It might just be her imagination, but they seemed to get better every time. If it kept on like this, Willow might actually die from the pleasure at some point in the very near future. That didn't even seem like such a tragic fate, especially since she had some firsthand knowledge of genuine tragic fates, including several that almost befell _her_.

"Mmm," she moaned as Angel's hands once again moved down below her waist. This time her brain thoughtfully stayed quiet and she just enjoyed the overall yumminess of the experience. Of course, her brain might also have realized that any cries of 'danger' would be hypocritical to say the least. Willow's own hands were doing naughty things, too. Boy did Angel have a nice butt.

Naturally, her brain refused to mind its own business forever and it soon chided her that if she didn't move her hands back to at least PG-rated terrain pretty soon, she'd be giving permission for things to go a bit further than she was admittedly prepared for. With a sigh, Willow did as her brain suggested, though she continued to kiss Angel. Mysteriously, he seemed to get with her brain's program and his own hands moved north as well. Darn.

A moment later, they parted and Willow realized she was panting. Panting? Wow. She'd heard of kissing being that intense but she'd never believed she'd experience that for herself. Another science project idea came to mind, but was quickly dismissed as being likely to get her into way too much trouble with Principal Snyder.

"Wow," she said softly, "that was really…"

"Amazing?" Angel finished. "Yeah, for me, too." His hand moved to her cheek and she leaned into the caress. "You're so beautiful."

It was official – this was the happiest day of Willow's life.

Kissing Willow. It had been even better this time. If it kept on getting better and better like this, Angel might combust sometime soon. It wouldn't be the worst way to end his eternity, that was for sure. As someone who'd been on the wrong end of stakes, flaming arrows, branding irons, and Spike's poetry, he could testify that it would be by far a more pleasant demise than any he'd almost suffered.

"Mmm." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. He'd meant what he said; she was truly lovely, especially now with her eyes shining and her lips swollen from being kissed. His optimism returned – things finally had to be going his way after all those decades of skulking in filth and paying the toll for crimes which – not to split hairs – he hadn't actually committed. There was no way Buffy was going to spoil things.

She was a good person, Angel knew, a decent person; kind and caring and devoted to her friends. All right, she _was_ a teenage girl with all the attendant hormones and emotional turmoil inherent in that state, but she was also the Slayer. Surely with that sacred duty came a maturity, a wisdom, and a character superior to that of other girls. Getting over Angel was certainly not going easily for her, of that he was sadly aware, but she was away from him now, had been for weeks, and with distance had to come some sober reflection and the realization that a vampire and a Slayer were doomed from the get-go (Angel was surprised at his own folly in beginning the relationship in the first place…okay, there _were_ those skirts…and she was one heck of a fighter…and oh yeah, the skirts). Yes, things were going to be just fine.

After that moment's thought, he turned his focus back to Willow, whose lips were practically beckoning to him, begging for another kiss. She was tempting, maybe a little too tempting. It was way too early in their relationship for this to go as far as he wanted to take it. So instead, he took her hand and drew her to the couch, where he then sat a prudent distance away from her.

"Angel?" she asked her voice shaking and uncertain. "Does this mean that we're…that I'm your girlfriend now?"

She was adorable. "Yes," he answered before he decided 'to hell with resisting temptation'. He put his hand under her chin, leaned forward, and kissed her again.

It was official – this was the best day of Angel's unlife.

Tbc…


	21. Chapter 21

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty-One)

"Hey, Giles," Willow caroled happily as she and Angel walked into her mentor's flat.

Giles had been training her in magic for two weeks now and this morning she'd floated a pencil. She was still on cloud nine and was quite eager to do it again – this time with Angel as a witness, hence the dragging her boyfriend - oh the elegant beauty of the word 'boyfriend' and her right to signify it with a first person possessive pronoun - back here just as soon as the sun had set. Giles had forbidden her from doing magic alone for the time being and she'd promised to follow the rules. As much as it irritated her, she was a girl who kept promises – and besides, Angel agreed with Giles and he was always around, so… Yeah, she was the 'don't try this at home' girl (at least for now).

"Not quite, although if I drink any more tea, I might sprout tweed." Oh. Xander was here. Where was Giles? Angel stiffened at her side. Wouldn't he and Xander _ever_ get along? "Hey there, Deadboy." Willow squeezed Angel's hand to keep him from rising to the bait while she glared at Xander. He'd seemed to be coming around, but it looked like one step forward, two steps back.

"Where is Giles?" Willow decided to actually ask.

"Don't know. He got a phone call, but he spoke way too low for me to eavesdrop. Then he just said he'd be out for awhile and for me to lock up when I leave. How am I supposed to lock up without a key?"

"When did he leave?" Willow was almost angry. He had some nerve being gone when she wanted to show Angel the cool magic-y thing she could do but wasn't allowed to do outside of Giles's presence.

"He's been gone for about two hours, which I only know because of the clock. Do you have any idea how bored I am right now? Giles has no cable and all his books are the ones I go out of my way not to have to read during research sessions. What kind of grown man doesn't even have a copy of Playboy lying around?"

Angel had to admit that Xander had a point. There was more to life than dry academics. But that did not mean for a moment that he had to concede the point openly. Besides, he and Xander were still going through the motions of being mutually antagonistic – the boy had assured him it was necessary. It also wasn't exactly a hardship; the resentment over being upstaged in the battle against Porthus had yet to go the way of the demon himself.

"So why didn't you leave?"

"Because I don't have a key and I'm guessing that if I just left and the place was all open and some vampire wandered in and messed with Giles's precious books, I'd be in pretty big trouble." Angel couldn't help but laugh at that and Xander immediately rounded on him. "What's so funny?" How could the boy not know how ridiculous he'd just sounded?

"Vampires aren't going to break in. Not even if you leave the door wide open." Angel couldn't keep himself from sounding smug and condescending.

"They can't come in unless you invite them in," Willow interposed softly and far too kindly. Angel got a pathetically juvenile and ridiculously enormous amount of pleasure from the embarrassment that flashed briefly across Xander's face.

"I knew that," he said."But they could have help – you know, other demons, humans – that's what I meant." Sure you did, Xander. That's why you're stuttering and looking at the ceiling and the floor and the staircase.

Sadly, a noise at the door distracted them all and precluded Angel from augmenting Xander's humiliation. "I thought I told that boy to lock this when he left." Ah. Giles was home.

Oh goody! Giles was back. That meant that Willow would finally be able to show Angel the neat way she could float a pencil.

When the door opened, however, she could see Giles wasn't really in the mood for magic…at least not her kind. Jenny was standing right behind him – and hey, was that lipstick on his mouth? Oh gosh!

"What…?" he offered, his speech mildly slurred. Even Willow could tell that, yes, alcohol had been recently consumed. She had a horrible feeling that the three of them being in the apartment threatened to ruin Giles's night. Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit self-satisfied. She'd obviously been right when she told Jenny that Giles would forgive her – all it had taken was a little time (and apparently some wine).

"Xander didn't want to leave your house all unlocked and stuff," Willow explained, almost giggling at Xander's open-mouthed stare. Come to think of it, Giles did look kind of rumpled. Guess the party had already started. Oops! Well, there was nothing they could do about that now. Besides, she wanted to show Angel her mojo, so Giles was just going to have to wait to show Jenny his.

"Yeah. Seeing as how I don't have a key or anything," Xander added.

"Oh…right. Well, of course…" Giles was stammering and it was kind of cute. Was Jenny blushing? She was!

Giles, you old dog! Didn't know you had it in you. And no, Angel wasn't delighting in Jenny's embarrassment. Well…not _much_.

"Willow wanted me to see what she learned today and since she's not supposed to use magic unsupervised, here we are." Angel figured an explanation of the extra two people in the apartment might come in handy since his senses detected a strong odor of spirits on the Watcher. In point of fact, the man was inebriated and there was no chance of him figuring out the answer to anything more challenging than 'what is the sum of 2 + 2?' on his own.

No, they weren't leaving, either. Because frankly, Angel really did want to see Willow float a pencil. He was as proud as could be of the progress she was making and the power she was discovering within herself. The way her eyes had sparkled so prettily and the colour rose becomingly in her cheeks when she'd told him of the feat she'd accomplished today…

Something told him he was falling in love with Willow Rosenberg. Maybe not even falling. It was entirely possible he'd already landed.

"Can I show him now, Giles? Please? It'll just take a few minutes and then you and Jenny can get back to…whatever it is you were planning on doing. Okay?" The expression on Willow's face, so winsome and fetching as she pleaded for the chance to show off her skills – it left him free from all doubt. Angel loved Willow.

Apparently, Giles wasn't so soused that he could resist her plea either, though at least now Angel was pretty sure the man's interest was nothing but fatherly. "Alright, I suppose. But then I should be very pleased if the three of you would kindly…"

"Leave. We get it, G-man," Xander interrupted. "And hey, if you'd left a key in the first place… Wait a minute – Will, you can float a pencil?"

Wow. Xander actually seemed impressed. That did Willow's ego no end of good, though it wasn't as neat of a feeling as the little jump her heart gave when she saw the look in Angel's eyes just now. If he kept looking at her like that, she just might…

Oh gosh! She was falling in love with Angel, wasn't she? Not even falling; she'd already hit the ground with a great big splat. And you know, it was funny, but this didn't feel a darn thing like when she'd been in love with Xander. Did love always feel different with different people or had she been wrong for all these years and never loved Xander at all? She was now torn between feeling disgusted at all the time she'd spent deluded and feeling grateful that something had distracted her from actually falling for someone else before she got to meet Angel.

She only hoped he would come to feel the same way about her, because it would be even worse than her unrequited not-love for Xander to be in unrequited real-love with Angel.

It was time to stop thinking about this, though, because she needed to clear her mind so she could demonstrate her bad-ass magical powers for Angel. The sooner she floated that pencil, the sooner Giles and Jenny could get back to work on the fence-mending thing that seemed to be going pretty well.

"Giles, is it okay if I move your coffee table so I can do the float-y thing here?"

"Yes, yes, of course." He sounded irritated, but hey, she and Angel had been waiting here just for this and it was a waste of what could have been smoochie time if they up and left now. Besides, he'd just given them permission a moment ago and anyway, Giles was the one who insisted she not do magic without his supervision, so it served him right to be inconvenienced by his own rules.

"I can't believe how far you've come in such a short time," Jenny said. "It certainly is a good thing you've begun training."

Willow was only half paying attention. She'd brought her tools with her and she drew a circle before her on her mat, clearing her mind and saying a blessing. Giles had told her that making sure to invoke only the powers of good was an essential beginning to even the smallest ritual or task.

She laid her pencil in the middle of the circle as she sat cross-legged before it. She closed her eyes, focused her energies and…

"Oh my God! Willow! It's floating!" Thank you, Harris, for stating the obvious. It wasn't as if the rest of them couldn't see it for themselves.

Luckily, Xander's outburst didn't seem to have any effect on Willow. The pencil stayed motionless, suspended in midair as if it were resting on a pedestal. Angel had to admit that he was in awe. His girl was something else, wasn't she?

He took his eyes off the pencil and gazed at Willow. Her eyes were open now and her features were so beautifully composed – peaceful and in harmony with something Angel couldn't see but that he could certainly feel. There was a power around her that was greater than anything Angelus had ever wielded. Thank whatever god watched over Willow that his demon had never gotten a hold of her. Imagine the horrible, dangerous mockery into which his demon could have twisted Willow. Together they would have made the heavens weep and the earth tremble.

And no, this did not give him any fodder for future bedroom role-playing. Okay – maybe – and yes, perhaps there would be leather involved – but that didn't mean he wasn't entirely pleased that it had never and would never come to pass in reality

He needed to get his mind out of the gutter before his body reacted in a way that even Giles would notice – not to mention super-spoilsport extraordinaire Janna Kalderash. Luckily, just a glance at that woman's face did the trick and the naughty thoughts evaporated like Porthus-goo as the pencil floated slowly to the ground.

"So – what did you think?" Willow asked, her face alight as the magic faded away. "Wasn't it cool?"

"It was incredible," he replied, taking her hands and pulling her up from the floor. Never had words been so inadequate. Sure, maybe it was only the levitation of a small hunk of wood and lead, but it seemed like a miracle to Angel. And the power that he had felt emanating from her foretold so many greater, more fantastic deeds in the future. No question about it, Angel's girl was every bit as extraordinary as any Slayer.

Of course, it wasn't as if Angel was comparing the two of them. Buffy was Buffy and Willow was Willow. And what he felt for Willow? It was entirely different from anything he'd felt for anyone before. In fact…

"Giles? I'm home! And boy do I have stuff to tell you," came a familiar voice as the front door flew open. "Do you have any idea where Will and Xander are? I was just at their houses and… Angel? W-what are you doing here?"

Willow gripped his hand so tightly that he knew her knuckles were chalk white, the same colour as her face now that the blood had drained from it. Things were about to get very complicated.

Buffy was back.

Tbc…


	22. Chapter 22

The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty-Two)

"Buffy. Gosh! It's great to see you!"

Did that sound sincere? Willow sure hoped it did. She let go of Angel's hand - hoping Buffy hadn't noticed she was holding it in the first place - and hurried to offer a hug to her friend.

"What brings you back so soon?" Xander asked. "And can I thank it?" Willow would have giggled at Xander's eagerness – and how new was that? – but she was feeling too guilty. She'd been wrong; her middle name wasn't Danielle or even Danger…it was Brutus. She should have checked her hands for knives before she hugged Buffy.

"I heard there was some new Big Bad in town and I figured you guys might need my help. Judging by the fact that all of you are here, I'm guessing you're already on the case." Her brow was furrowed with concern.

This was so like Buffy – putting her own life on hold to do her sacred duty. If she knew just what was waiting for her… Just a minute. There was _another_ Big Bad? Oh no!

Before Willow, or anyone else, could ask her about it, Buffy helpfully continued. "So do we know anything about Porthus other than that he's evil and apparently a one-of-a-kind collectible?"

Oops. Guess news didn't actually travel all that fast after all. Who knew? Of course, no one could have been happier about that than Xander, whose face bore an expression of such joy that Willow came perilously close to those giggles that hadn't happened earlier. He was so excited at the chance to tell Buffy of his own heroism.

He took a breath, drew himself up, and said, "You know, funny thing you should mention Porthus…"

"Xander accidentally killed him with a chocolate bar while he was trying to turn Willow into his mate." Yes! Payback time! Angel fought the urge to rub his hands together in glee. This would teach Xander to call him 'Deadboy'. After all, even if they were supposedly only playing at mutual antagonism, demeaning nicknames took it way too far.

Uh-oh. The expression on the boy's face told him that they wouldn't be calling things even anytime soon.

"A chocolate bar? He was supposed to be the biggest Big Bad ever and you killed him with a chocolate bar?" Buffy seemed dumbfounded, as well she might. Even Angel found it stupefying and he'd had weeks to process the event.

"It was actually a lot more dashing and heroic than it sounds," Xander offered, looking rather more crestfallen than Angel had wanted. Oh well. What was done was done and he couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of the look on Xander's face when he'd realized he was facing a demon armed with nothing more than a half-eaten candy bar.

Laughter had not been the right choice at the moment.

"See if I offer to help when you need to buy a birthday present for Willow. Without me, you'll wind up in the doghouse, Deadboy."

Thanks, Harris.

Angel was reasonably sure he had not been able to rid his face of the 'deer caught in the headlights look' nearly fast enough and even if he had, Xander's face still wore that stricken look so the damage was done. He was going to throttle that boy just as soon as his soul – and Willow – permitted. (And no, none of this was his fault for being so juvenile as to bait and mock the boy in the first place) Please let Buffy not be quick on the uptake tonight.

"Why would Angel buy Willow a birthday present?"

Oh no. Now Willow looked as guilty as Xander did. This was really not going well at all. Why, oh why had Angel not invested in a stake-proof vest?

Oh gosh. Buffy was looking at her all curiously and stuff and Willow…well…she sucked at lying, even in a situation like this where it should be super easy because Buffy would never believe the truth and…

"Xander was just joking around. You know what a kidder he is. Angel? Buy me a present? Gosh no. He'd never do anything like that. We barely ever even talk – well we talk about demon-y stuff, but that's it. Absolutely it." She punctuated her words with a 'gee whiz' gesture even as she fought not to wince at the phoniness of her voice. And could she have over-emphasized much more?

Buffy just stared, first at her, then at Angel. Oh no – this was so not looking good.

"Oh my God," Buffy breathed. "You and Angel?"

The game was up. Please let death be swift and painless. "Uh huh," Willow squeaked as she closed her eyes and waited for whatever horrible fate was in store. She just hoped Angel would survive.

To her shock, she was immediately enveloped in a Slayer-strength hug. "Willow! You have no idea how happy this makes me!"

Huh?

Okay…what? Just as Angel was cursing himself for not getting between his former and current girlfriends in time, it all went strangely sideways. Buffy was happy that he was with Willow?

"I was so worried. I mean, I was going to tell you this on the phone but then I couldn't and…"

Buffy was interrupted by a scruffy stranger who seemed to have just appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Buffy. You gonna be done here anytime soon? Cuz I'm kinda gettin' lonely out in the car."

Who the hell was this guy and what made him think he could just barge into Giles's apartment?

"Excuse me. I'm afraid we haven't been introduced. May I ask what you think you're doing walking into my flat?" Giles got a word in edgewise for the first time.

"I'm with the G-man on this one. Just who the heck do you think you are?" Xander seemed more than a little miffed, which probably had something to do with the fact that the man was under 80 and clearly knew Buffy.

"Oh!" Buffy cried, letting go of Willow and hurrying to the man at the door. "Guys? I want you to meet Pike."

Pike? What kind of name was Pike?

Pike? Willow's brain clicked back on after shutting down in shock at Buffy's reaction to her perfidy and, after shuffling through a few hundred girl-talk memories, it provided her with background to go with the name – and the man who bore it.

It was Buffy's ex-boyfriend. The one she'd broken up with rather fuzzily right before she and her mom moved to Sunnydale. The one who did the thing with his tongue that… Wow. So this was Pike.

And suddenly there was an explanation for the fractured and incomplete conversation they'd had about two weeks ago. Buffy hadn't been referring to sex with Angel when she'd talked about big things that impact relationships, she'd been talking about…getting back together with Pike.

"Ummm…nice to meet you, Pike. Buffy's told me a lot about you." Yes, and most of it could never be shared with anyone else in the room. Willow gave him the most surreptitious once-over possible. Boy he sure didn't seem like…down, Willow. You have your own man. And hey, he bathed, which was a really big plus. Pike was just a bit too disheveled for her taste. Cute, though, and maybe Buffy could threaten to stake him if he didn't get a haircut and shave.

"Which puts you way ahead of the rest of us." Xander was glaring at Pike. Oh no. Poor Xander. Now that she had Angel, Willow had really hoped that Xander would actually have a chance with Buffy. Looked like that wouldn't be happening. Her best friend was all alone. Memories of her dream about Cordelia surfaced and she shuddered – there were worse fates for Xander than dateless weekends, she decided.

"You didn't tell them about me?"

"No, she didn't." Angel's tone was a bit hard and he regretted it the moment he looked at Willow's face. He smiled at her to let her know his reaction didn't mean what she thought it did. Willow was the one for him, of that there was no doubt. But give a vampire a break – it sure looked like Buffy had gone way down market when shopping for a new boyfriend. Wouldn't _any_ guy be slightly offended at being replaced by a scruffy ne'er-do-well type named after a fish? Porthus was actually higher up the ladder than this fellow. Hell, _Harris_ was higher up the ladder.

"He's Buffy's ex-boyfriend," Willow offered helpfully.

Pike chuckled. "Not so much with the 'ex' , but you got the last part right." He walked right up to Angel and shook his hand then stared at him quizzically. "You're a vampire," he said, backing away and pulling a stake out of his back pocket.

Looked like Buffy wasn't big on keeping _anyone_ completely in the loop. Angel assumed battle stance and waited to see what would happen.

"He knows about…vampires?" Giles asked with great annoyance – and not a little remaining inebriation. "Buffy, I thought we discussed the imprudence of your sharing these…details…with civilians." Way to keep your eye on the salient point there, Watcher. Oh, and next time, watch your diction, or were you under the impression the word was pronounced 'discushed'?

Willow raced towards him, actually willing to put herself between him and a stake. If he'd had any doubts before, he didn't now – Angel loved Willow.

"Pike, no!" Buffy yelled as she grabbed the arm holding the stake.

"He's a vampire."

"Yes, but he's not one of the bad guys. He has a soul, okay? I know him."

"Would have been nice if you'd mentioned that before I almost staked him. Are you sure?"

"She's sure," Willow said, her Resolve Face at the fore. Oh how she hoped it worked on strangers. "Angel's one of us. He even helped kill Porthus." She beamed up at her boyfriend, who was gazing at her in a way that made her forget that she'd ever doubted his affections a few moments ago. She guessed anybody would be a bit nonplussed at their ex showing up with a random guy out of the blue and all.

"Hey, let's not forget who actually dealt the death blow, okay?" Oops, she probably should have thought more about the last vestiges of Xander's pride before speaking.

"Death by chocolate," Buffy grinned as she spoke."Way to go, Xander." Her tone couldn't have been more filial and Willow's heart ached for her friend.

"He's dead?" Pike sounded disappointed. "Well that sucks. Here I was all ready to do battle beside the Slayer and…wham! The Big Bad is dead."

"It's okay, honey. You'll get plenty more chances. We're on the Hellmouth now, remember? Evil shows up every day." Buffy put her arms around Pike and Willow could almost see Xander's heart breaking. At this moment, she was officially willing to let him date Cordelia Chase if it would make him feel better – not that there was any actual chance of that, but still…

"So, Buffy, I take it your friend knows all about your 'secret' identity." Gosh, Jenny needed to lighten up. Even Giles was coming around about Angel and hey, Pike had known Buffy before Giles even did.

"I saved him from a vampire the night I found out I was the Slayer. Kinda hard to keep it a secret after that."

"I didn't actually need saving, you know."

"Of course you didn't. But I saved you anyway" Buffy kissed him and that seemed to settle things.

You know, they were pretty cute together, even if Pike did need a shower and some clean clothes.

Willow wrapped her arms around Angel and followed Buffy's example by giving her own guy a kiss.

Things were going to be okay.

In fact, they were going to be great.

"So you know all about…" Giles was still trying to catch up.

"Vampires, demons, the Slayer. Yeah, I know all about it. Buffy and Merrick filled me in awhile back."

Buffy's face fell at the mention of that last name and Angel was glad she'd shared _something_ with him in the past so he could follow the conversation. What had happened to her first Watcher naturally still hurt her. Angel understood that. There were times when he almost regretted dusting Darla.

"You knew Merrick?" Giles asked.

"Yeah. He was a good guy."

"Giles is awesome," Buffy interposed. "Really, you guys are gonna get along so well."

"Quite," Giles responded. Guess he wasn't too enamoured of Buffy's new swain's idea of hygiene. Join the club; Angel was still a bit insulted. Thankfully, the knowledge that this guy had been her boyfriend before - and the fact that Angel was head over heels for Willow - made it palatable.

"So this obviously means you're okay with the whole 'Angel and Willow' thing." Xander sounded peevish. No surprise. Angel felt dirty for this, but he was actually sorry that Xander wasn't going to have a chance with Buffy.

"Yeah. It's great." Buffy's smile was absolutely genuine and, while Angel was mostly very pleased that he and Willow had nothing to fear from her, was it too much to ask that she be just a tiny bit disturbed? The most infinitesimal amount of jealousy would be enough to suit his ego.

He wasn't going to get it though and he fought the annoying urge to sigh. Luckily, looking into Willow's eyes took care of the problem completely. Love was like that.

The one person who had something negative to say was, oddly, Pike. "Isn't Willow your best friend? How can you be okay with her dating a vampire? I mean – hello! He's dead, well, _un_dead, but still – not exactly a great idea, wouldn't you say? Especially for a normal human girl."

"Willow's not quite a normal human girl." Was that Giles? Okay – Giles was defending Angel's relationship with Willow. It would seem the man was a whole lot more intoxicated than Angel had thought.

"What do you mean?" Buffy seemed concerned.

"It seems the reason Porthus was so determined to make Willow his was because she has innate magical power," Jenny offered.

"Yeah. Giles has been training her for about two weeks and she can already do stuff. She floated a pencil right before you got here. It was pretty amazing." Thank you, Xander.

Willow was now blushing adorably, unable to say a word. Angel held her close and kissed the top of her head.

Jaw slack and eyes wide, Buffy stared for a moment. "Wow. Will. So you're…magic girl, huh?"

And there it was, just for a split second. Of course, immediately afterward, Buffy beamed and a general round of discussion of Willow's prowess ensued, but Angel experienced shame, nonetheless. He felt badly that he'd ever wanted Buffy to feel envy. He was too old to be that immature. He'd leave that to Xander, thank you very much.

"I'm not ready to take over the slay-age. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're always gonna be the top dog around here, Buffy." Had Willow noticed, too? Angel didn't think it was possible, but he might just love her more.

The talk moved to 'How I Spent My Summer Vacation' and Angel stayed quiet, his arm around Willow, taking in the way the group somehow didn't change – even when it did.

He kissed Willow again.

Things were going to be okay.

In fact, they were going to be great.

The End


End file.
